


Drowning

by Arianna



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scenes & Epilogues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianna/pseuds/Arianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair escape the TSbyBS media frenzy in Cascade by going camping, but end up in trouble. Afterward, Blair's injuries make them an ideal 'couple' to go undercover. First times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Drowning by Arianna |沉溺](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684564) by [cinnabary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabary/pseuds/cinnabary)



> I want to thank StarWatcher, my invaluable beta, for her wonderful support. This story is dedicated to Aunty Hill, because it was her brilliant, evocative art that inspired this tale.

"When you go down to the woods today, you're in for a big surprise - "

"Cut it out, man! Lemme go!" Blair yelped as he struggled ineffectually, giving a good impression of a man trying to escape his partner's headlock. But he could have broken free if he'd really wanted to. The truth was, as silly as his current predicament was - having his hair scrubbed as if he were going on ten rather than thirty - it just felt so damned good. The sound of Simon's indulgently teasing voice as he sang, and the laughter rollicking around the MCU bullpen, warmed his soul after it had been chilled and scared for what felt like a very long time. And to have Jim gripping him so tightly, pressing him against Ellison's body so that his head was held just above his partner's belt buckle was nirvana itself. No way did he want this moment to end, regardless of how ridiculous he must look. God, Jim sounded so happy, positively giddy with the idea of him becoming a cop and being his _permanent_ partner. Hearing that, feeling it, Blair felt almost overwhelming joy, and he only kept from drowning in it by the humiliating fact that his lip had started to tremble and his eyes were burning. No way was he going to get all misty-eyed and choked up; it would only embarrass Jim and the rest of the gang.

So he laughed right along with the others as he continued his charade of floundering helplessly in Jim's clutches, and he listened to their voices to give himself a lifeline to hold onto so that he wouldn't be washed away on the crest of his emotion. Yeah, they were all laughing but, perhaps, the tenor of the laughter wasn't all the same. Sandburg could hear his mother's high-pitched, rippling twitter, the one that meant she was faking it to cover nervous anxiety when she was really closer to tears, which saddened him. But Brown and Rafe were guffawing without restraint with what sounded like simple, wholehearted amusement. Joel's deep chuckle and Megan's defiantly feminine giggle sounded knowing, and that gave Blair pause. Sure, Megan knew the truth, but Joel? Sandburg gave himself a mental kick for being at all surprised that Joel had figured it all out; the media hype had probably just explained what he'd long ago noticed on his own. Which had Blair going back to check out Henri's and Rafe's voices. There was nothing forced, no underlying doubt - they'd figured it out, too, by the sounds of things. And Simon? Well, he just sounded immensely relieved and pleased. They all wanted him to stay, all still trusted him, and that was the most wondrous gift of all.

Finally, Jim's grip loosened and Sandburg pulled himself back, huffing as he straightened and raked his hair back off his face. "Yuck it up, Ellison," he growled in mock threat. "Just remember, I'll soon be packing a gun and they're going to train me how to use it. I know where you live, man."

Which only set off another round of hilarity as Blair and Jim just grinned at each other, abiding affection for one another glowing in their eyes. Sandburg shook his head a little, thinking that he was such a wuss and that he'd be better to make his escape and run for the hills, instead of being so everlastingly grateful that Jim still wanted him in the older man's life. God, he had it bad.

He loved Jim so damned much that it didn't matter that Jim didn't, and never would, ever, love him in the same way. Loved him so much that he didn't care that it hurt like hell to be so close to the man, to be touched easily and often without the meaning and intent he longed for. Loved Ellison unconditionally, so that he only wanted his best friend and partner to be happy - even when his search for happiness led Jim to seek it in the arms of someone else and, man, that hurt like hell. Loved him passionately, and was simply pathetically grateful for the friendship and the partnership, and to know that he was the one who would now always be there when Jim needed someone to lean on, as Ellison served as the Sentinel of the Great City.

Loved him enough to accept the offer to become a cop, though it scared the shit out of him and challenged some of his most deeply held beliefs about guns and violence... and maybe killing someone someday.

Loved Jim more than enough to weather whatever resentment and ridicule, distrust and even hatred he knew he'd encounter from the vast majority of other cadets in the Cascade Police Academy; and even within the department itself, despite the fact that he'd been around for four years and had become not only a tolerated fixture, but accepted and welcomed in his own right... until the press conference.

Blair had not expected the offer of a badge; would never have even considered it could be a possibility after all that had happened. In truth, he'd been steeling himself to leave Cascade later that day, to protect Jim's secret and to give Ellison the space he'd said he wanted back only a week ago, pathetically grateful that at least it seemed they might part friends. But if Simon was willing to have him despite the rumblings that his presence would inevitably generate, and the others still trusted him enough to be glad to keep him around, well, then, he wasn't fool enough to let the opportunity pass.

God. He was going to be a cop!

Finally, Blair wrenched his gaze from Jim's and turned to his mother, who was standing very close by. He lifted his arms and she rushed into his embrace, holding him tightly.

"You okay with this?" he murmured as the men and women around them continued to tease Jim about having a hippie for a permanent partner and calling to him that he'd still be 'Hairboy,' even if his locks were shorn like a sheep.

"Oh, Blair," she sighed, giving up the pretense of uncomplicated delight. "It's just so dangerous. I'm scared for you, sweetie."

He rubbed her back as he replied quietly, "It'll be okay. It's what I want, Mom."

Sniffing, her brilliant green eyes still glimmering with tears, she pulled a little away to look up at him and cup his cheek with loving tenderness. "I only ever want you to be happy, Blair. So, if this makes you happy, then I'll learn to be okay with it. Promise."

He smiled gratefully and kissed her on the brow, and they let go of one another.

"I, ah, I really think you and Jim just need some time to, you know, reconnect," she stammered then, uncharacteristically tentative. "If you want me to stay, I will. But, well, I've made arrangements to visit with a friend in town for a couple days, and then I think I'll go to Aspen to process everything. I just feel so _badly_ about what I did."

Pulling her back into his arms, Blair gave her a swift, hard hug. "I told you, Mom, it's okay. I know you were only trying to help. And it's worked out, right? Everything's fine."

"Sandburg, I hate to intrude, but if I could have a moment of your time?" Simon cut in to their conversation, still sounding relieved, but more solemn than he had been moments before.

"Ah, sure, Simon, uh, Captain," Blair replied amenably. But before he released his mother, he asked again, "You're sure you're all right?" When she nodded emphatically, he said, "Okay. Go visit with your friend. Call me before you leave Aspen so I'll know where you're headed next."

When Naomi nodded again and then wordlessly turned away, not trusting her voice, he watched as she left the room and then turned his attention fully on Banks. As Simon waved toward his office and signaled Jim to come with them, Blair moved to push Banks' wheelchair forward, and then closed the door behind them. Jim sank onto one of the chairs around the small conference table and unconsciously rubbed his aching leg, while Blair perched on its edge, his gaze expectant.

Simon pulled a cigar out of his pocket to fiddle with as the silence lengthened briefly and then, with a small sigh, he looked up at them. "You both know this isn't going to be a bed of roses, right? It's going to take time for all the notoriety and speculation to calm down."

Both men nodded soberly. Jim glanced away, his lips twisted in chagrined acceptance as he offered quietly, "Maybe I should just go public, Simon. Maybe it's time."

Before Banks could reply, Blair cut in. "Uh-uh. No way," he asserted sharply. "The last thing you or the department needs is more media insanity. And there is no way in hell that I'd agree to you giving out information that could put you at risk. Jim, every bad guy from here to New York City would know all they needed to put you out of action was a sudden blinding light or piercing noise. Forget it. Simon, tell him it's a really bad idea."

Banks nodded, albeit reluctantly. He didn't like Sandburg wearing the tag of fraud anymore than Ellison did. Aside from the fact that it was massively unjust, however the kid had pinned the label on himself, there were real issues that had to be dealt with. "I don't disagree, Blair. But we're going to have to let more people in on the secret. I can deal with the Chief, the Commissioner and the DA. They won't be happy about being kept in the dark all this time, but they need to know now. And, well, I think we're going to have to find a way to have it quietly rumored, at least here in the department, that, just maybe, your paper wasn't the lie you claimed it to be. I can't have either of you at risk because other cops resent you or don't trust you. If we play it right, the folks inside will end up proud to know they have a Sentinel in their midst, and you'll be seen as something of a quiet hero - you'll be respected rather than maligned."

Sandburg's lips thinned as he thought about it. Sighing, he had to agree. Jim couldn't afford to have backup mysteriously and unfortunately delayed in crisis situations, nor did he wish to end up badly hurt or dead by being hung out to dry. And if he was going to be a cop, that meant he'd have to testify in court. They'd need strategies to deal with his lack of credibility - if the DA didn't know the truth, the whole situation would be hopeless from the get-go. He looked at Jim and cocked a questioning brow. "You okay with what Simon is suggesting?"

"Yeah, no question," Jim affirmed solemnly. "It's the very least that you deserve, Chief."

"All right, then, leave it to me to get things rolling," Simon said, the tension easing from his shoulders. In the end, it was all politics and he knew very well how to handle his superiors, peers and stakeholders. Before he could dismiss them and tell them to go on home, there was a knock on the door and Joel poked his head in, his expression somber.

"Sorry, I don't want to interrupt, but - "

"Come on in, Joel," Simon interrupted with a wave. "What's on your mind?"

Closing the door, the older man turned to the two partners. "Look, I know things are pretty hot right now, what with the media'n all. It occurred to me that maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you both to get out of town for a while, to let things cool off a little," he suggested delicately.

"What did you have in mind, Joel?" Jim asked, curious.

"Well, my brother has a piece of land on the Columbia river. You can only reach it by boat," Joel explained. "It's remote and very rugged. No facilities except the dock. But it's a pretty place, good fishing - and it's very private. I got the key for his boat and his go-ahead that you could go up there for as long as you want."

Ellison nodded and looked up at Blair, leaving the decision to him. "What do you think, Chief?"

"I think it's a great idea!" Blair replied enthusiastically. Smiling with undisguised gratitude at Joel, he added, "Thanks, man."

As Joel fished in his pocket for the key and the sheet of paper giving directions to the boat slip at the marina in the nearest town on the river, and the specific instructions on where to find the campsite, Jim turned to Simon. "You okay with this?" he asked.

Simon scratched his cheek. "Well, you've got at least a week of leave, maybe even two, to let your leg heal, and I can use the time to sort things out here. Where you spend your convalescence is up to you. But I agree with Joel. I think it would be a good idea to get away for a while to someplace where the media can't find you."

"Then I guess we're going camping," Jim said with a shrug and a smile.

 

* * *

 

Once they got back to the loft, they were met by a crowd of reporters who had heard Ellison had been released from hospital earlier that day, and who wanted his comments both on taking out Zeller and Sandburg's astonishing confession during his press conference. Others yelled out questions to Blair about why he'd chosen to perpetrate such a fraud, what did the future hold now that he'd been thrown out of Rainier, why had he lied about his ostensibly best friend's abilities and was he grateful that Ellison was still talking to him?

 _"No comment!"_ Jim snapped in exasperation as the reporters crowded in with their microphones and cameras pushed into his face. He felt as though they'd run a gauntlet by the time he slammed the entrance door to their building in their collective faces. "God," he muttered as he limped toward the elevator, Blair a half-step behind him. "They're like vultures swarming over a carcass."

When Blair didn't say anything, Jim turned toward him as they waited for the elevator doors to open. Sandburg was staring at his shoes, his hair falling forward to partially obscure his wan face. Reaching out, Ellison gripped his shoulder as he asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

Blair nodded as he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, though he avoided Jim's eyes. "I'm getting used to it," he replied as calmly as he could. "And they'll lose interest as soon as some other big story breaks. No big deal."

Jim's heart twisted at his partner's words. "No big deal?" he echoed and then looped his arm around Blair's shoulders to draw him into a hug. "Ah, Chief," Jim murmured. "I'm so damned sorry."

But Blair shook his head. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, man. Naomi and I managed to create this mess all on our own." When the doors finally opened and he followed Jim inside, he added, "I really am okay, Jim. I didn't lose or give up anything that mattered to me more than our friendship. So long as we're good, I'm fine."

Jim gazed at him and nodded, but he didn't look happy. Sandburg had given up far too much to protect him, and Jim was smart enough to know his own behavior had probably precipitated the dramatic and very public sacrifice. If he hadn't been so damned overwhelmed that he'd been drowning in turbulent emotions, and had been able to talk sensibly about what had happened instead of issuing dire proclamations about being made to feel like a freak and announcing that whatever was between them was over - if he'd stopped to listen instead of slamming out and leaving Blair to fix it however he could - maybe there could have been another outcome. But he _had_ blown up and Sandburg _had_ been left alone to clean up the mess as quickly as possible. In typical Sandburgian fashion, the kid had fixed things for everyone but himself - himself he'd screwed royally.

Jim would never forget watching that press conference in the meeting room downtown. He had been completely, utterly, devastatingly shocked as he'd stood helplessly listening to Blair crucify himself. Never had he ever envisioned that such a thing would happen, and it sure wasn't anything he either believed was necessary or felt at all comfortable with. But it was done and couldn't be undone short of holding his own 'coming out party' for the media's entertainment. God, what a circus it would be all over again. Sighing, he shook his head a little as he watched the indicator lights above the door as the ancient contraption slowly made its way to the third floor. He would have done it, had been very sincere in his offer to go public. He couldn't pretend not to feel a certain relief that Blair didn't want him to - but that relief was too colored by guilt to be at all comfortable.

He was distracted when the elevator doors opened and Blair touched his arm to draw him back from his thoughts. Wordlessly, he let Sandburg lead him down the corridor toward their apartment, leaning on his friend's support as he hobbled along with his cane.

Once again, Blair reassured him, "Really, Jim - stop worrying about it. I'm fine. Now let's get packed and out of here," he added with apparently easy cheerfulness. "I don't know about you, but I can hear the fish calling to us." His pitch lifted to a playful warble, and he grinned as he intoned, "C'mon! Catch me! Catch me! I dare you!"

As Blair unlocked and opened the door, Jim wondered how he'd ever gotten so lucky as to have a friend who truly loved him, no matter what. Who could see past his fear and anger and hateful words to the painfully, humiliatingly vulnerable heart underneath, and who stuck by him regardless of the personal cost. Even if he could find the words to express his boundless gratitude or how very humble Blair's devotion made him feel, he couldn't have spoken. His throat was too clogged with tears, and his lips would have trembled if he hadn't held them in such a rigid, thin line. But, God, it broke his heart to know what Sandburg had sacrificed for him.

 

* * *

 

By the time they gathered their personal gear together and carted it downstairs, the media had disappeared, evidently assuming they were home for the day. Blair helped Jim into the truck and then headed back into the building to get their camping equipment: a two-man pup tent, sleeping bags, cooking utensils, and so on. They'd stop on the way to buy enough supplies to get them started but, with the loaned motorboat, they could head into the nearest town to shop whenever they needed to.

Blair smiled wryly to himself as he dumped everything in the back of the truck and tied the tarp, reflecting that this trip would be easier than their last when they'd had to hike in with a week's worth of food on their backs. As he walked around to the driver's side, he looked up at the balcony of the loft, and he swallowed hard to think how differently everything could have turned out. Instead of heading out with Jim, he had thought he'd be pulling out right about now on a final bleak journey from 852 Prospect, to head off down some lonely highway, going to only God knew what faraway place to put the shambles of his life back into some kind of order.

 

 

But it hadn't turned out that way. Jim had gotten past the anger, and it was an affirmation of both their friendship and their partnership when Jim had tossed him that badge. It was going to be fine, just fine. Better than he'd dared hope that morning when he'd cleared out his office at Rainier and then had headed downtown for a last look around Major Crimes before handing in his observer's pass.

When they'd been packing for this trip, Jim had wondered how Blair had been able to get ready so much faster than he had. But Sandburg hadn't admitted that his bags had already been packed and he'd just had to yank some things out of his suitcase to stuff in his backpack.

Starting up the ignition, Blair shuddered to think how closely he'd come to walking away for good, in the mistaken belief that Jim really didn't want him hanging around anymore.

Jim noticed the small shiver and frowned as he leaned forward to flip on the heat. Sandburg was always cold and the wind did have a bit of a bite as it cut in from the sea. "You okay, Chief?" he asked.

"I'm great," Blair replied with a bright grin as he backed out onto the street and then steered toward the highway. "Any better and I'd be dancing."

"Not while you're driving my truck, Junior," Jim growled in stern pretense, but his heart was lightened by the obviously happy expression on Blair's face and the laughter in his eyes.

"Don't worry," Blair retorted blithely. "With that bum leg, you couldn't follow my lead, anyway."

Ellison snorted, but, as he turned to look out the side window, he couldn't help the grin that stole over his own face. He'd have to think of something really nice to do for Joel to pay him back for this. Heading out together to have some fun in the peace and quiet of the wilderness was the best thing they could have done to get their balance back and leave all the shit behind them.

 

* * *

 

The sky was a rare clear blue when they hit the highway, but the winds continued to pick up and buffeted the truck with increasing force. By the time they left the cleared land around the city behind and were traveling along a heavily-forested road, dark clouds were scudding overhead and prematurely dimming the light of the day.

Blair flicked a quick sidelong look at Jim and then gradually increased the pressure on the accelerator, edging up over the speed limit. The road was clear and visibility was still good, but he didn't want to be caught on the river by a sudden downpour. Jim didn't look at him, but smiled wryly and shrugged to indicate he hadn't missed the feel of slow acceleration.

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the small, local arena, found the battered old motorboat in the slip indicated in their instructions, loaded it up, and locked the truck. Blair tied his hair back, to keep it from blowing in his face, before they set off to find their isolated hideaway. Jim called out directions over the growing howl of the wind and the roar of the ancient motor as Sandburg steered against the heavy current and across the wind.

By the time they found the cove and tied up to the rickety old dock, the wind was sharp and cold, but the shelter of the small bay muted its power somewhat. Jim did his best to help, but Blair soon got him focused on getting their tent up and the sleeping bags inside, while he ferried the rest of their gear and supplies up the slight incline from the river to the campsite under the shelter of the trees.

But he hadn't quite made the last trip before the heavens opened and the deluge began, soaking him clear through in mere seconds. He slipped and slid through the sudden muddy morass, snickering at his inevitable bad luck when it came to the weather. Not that he could take it all that personally. Cold and wet was everyone's world in the coastal rainforest of the northwest. Still, as philosophically as he accepted the downpour and the way the rain lashed him, driven hard by the wind, he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering or his skin from shivering.

He tossed their duffel bags of clothing into the small shelter that Jim had prepared and dove in after them, laughing. "Oh, man," he hooted. "What did we do in previous lives to ever deserve this?"

"Probably lived in a desert and moaned all the time about the heat and lack of water," Jim rumbled. Blair grinned at him, delighted that Jim was relaxed enough to tease about previous lives - something Ellison sure didn't believe in.

Jim gave him a lop-sided grin in return and proceeded to help him out of his drenched clothing before he caught a chill. The jeans, shirt, socks and underwear couldn't get any wetter, so he tossed them outside and hauled on a warm jogging suit, pulled a heavy sweater over that, and hauled on thick dry socks, snickering as Jim vigorously towel-dried his hair. He only kept the windbreaker inside, with the hope that it would dry out by morning. If this weather kept up, he'd want a jacket that wasn't saturated with cold rain.

There was no hope of a fire, so Jim rustled in their stores to pull out the fixings for sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water. Blair snuggled into his sleeping bag and Jim layered his own still dry coat over the top so, gradually, Sandburg's shivers subsided.

Thunder rumbled overhead, rain beat down upon their tent with a hard, rapid tattoo and the wind howled in the trees around them. It felt as if they were at the end of the world, sheltered in the last tiny remaining dry place on earth. Night fell quickly, aided and abetted by the continuing storm.

Blair sniffed and curled into his bag, too wired to sleep, but he could barely see through the encroaching dark. "How's your leg?" he asked. "Bet this wet weather isn't helping any."

"It's okay," Jim replied and then blew the stoic response with a muffled grunt as he shifted around to get comfortable in his own sleeping bag.

"Yeah, sure it is," Blair murmured, shaking his head. "How's your dial?"

When Jim snorted, Blair just kept talking, guiding him through the repositioning of the mental control until he was more comfortable.

Silence descended between them then, as they listened to the rain and got lost in their own thoughts.

Blair was thinking how much he wished he could crawl into Jim's sleeping bag and get naked. But then he hurriedly pushed away the mental picture he'd conjured up - Jim was too close and too alert to not notice a sudden surge of pheromones and musk, even if they did come from the wrong gender so far as Ellison was concerned. To distract himself, Sandburg reflected on his blessings, most wonderful of which was that he was still a part of his Sentinel's life. He'd really thought he was going to lose Jim this time and that the older man would never forgive him, or accept a continuation of their friendship, let alone partnership.

Oh, sure, the ostracism he'd felt at Rainier had stung - big time. But he wouldn't let himself dwell on that. Life as an academic, essentially as a professional student in those rarefied and closed halls, was over. Sandburg was surprised that he didn't mourn that as much as he'd thought he might, but weighed against the chance to continue as Jim's partner, the loss wasn't all that hard to take. It didn't mean that he'd quit learning. He'd just do it outside the formal setting, but he couldn't not learn. He loved the discovery of new things, was too curious, to change the way he interacted with the world.

And the leap to becoming a cop in the formal sense wasn't as great as it might have been if he hadn't spent almost four years tagging along as Jim's shadow. He'd been in shootouts, had even been shot. He'd been kidnapped and his life had been seriously threatened more than once. He'd held weapons, even shot them on a couple of occasions when it was a matter of life or death. He didn't think he'd actually hit anyone, but that didn't mean he hadn't fired with intent. He still felt breathless and scared at the thought of killing another human being, but, hey, soldiers had to do it. Cops had to do it. It was part of the job of being the Guide and partner of a man who protected his community from predators. If he wanted to be truly effective in guarding Jim's back, he had to do whatever it took. And he'd found that, in his own right, he liked the fact that he could make a difference for the good by working with Jim. There was something very concrete and satisfying about protecting the innocent and getting bad guys off the streets.

No, the hard part wasn't giving up the dream of being a professor and researcher for the rest of his life, or even the idea of becoming a cop with all that that meant. The hard part was what he'd been dealing with for months now, ever since his and Jim's cosmic connection at the fountain after Alex had murdered him. When he'd died, Jim had been his best friend, his buddy, a brother, even, and the saddest part of the whole thing, the most painful part of dying, was believing he'd lost Jim because Ellison had felt betrayed - and there would never be a chance to make it right between them. When he'd come back to life, resurrected by Ellison in a mysterious and magical way, he awoke loving Jim, as in 'in love' with the man, with every fiber of his being, his whole heart and all of his soul.

It had scared him and confused him. He couldn't figure out what had happened and it didn't help that Jim wouldn't talk about the spiritual melding experience - or that Ellison had gone sniffing after Alex right after. Shit, it had been hard to watch that and not take it personally. Too hard. As much as he'd striven to be objective and professional, Blair knew he'd lost if for a while and just wallowed in anger. Fortunately, nobody really noticed except to blame it all on that jerk, Brad Ventriss.

He'd managed to rein his emotions in - _And I accuse Jim of having control issues_ , he thought wryly. But, God, it was hard to be so close, to touch so many times each and every day, and not be able to _touch and be touched_ the way he so sorely needed. Crossing his arms, he curled into himself, holding it all deep inside so Jim would never suspect, let alone know, how he felt - how he ached all the time for something he could never have.

But it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Sandburg didn't honestly think he'd just shrivel up and die if he couldn't remain in close proximity to Ellison, but he couldn't imagine, couldn't visualize, ever being happy anywhere but at Jim's side. He'd gotten a miracle and he knew it. Incredibly, Simon was willing to back him as a permanent, full-time member of Major Crimes once he got out of the academy; was willing to use whatever influence Banks had to get a so-called liar and fraud _into_ the academy in the first place. So Sandburg held onto the joy of that unlooked-for blessing and used it as a wall against the pain of the unrequited passion of his love.

Belatedly, Blair realized he'd gotten way too caught up in his own thoughts when he was startled by Jim's hand lightly brushing his still-damp hair back from his brow.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked softly, concerned. "You've gone pretty quiet. And, well, you look kinda sad for someone who said earlier he was so happy he could dance."

Shit. He'd momentarily forgotten that, just because he couldn't see an inch in front of his face, Jim could see him just fine. Compensating for the gaff, he smiled slowly into the darkness.

"Why? You feel like dancing? A little crowded in here, but, hey, I'm game to give it a try," he teased as he shuffled a little to playfully nudge his shoulder against Jim.

Ellison whapped him lightly on the head and he snickered. But then he turned his face toward Jim as he asked, "What's it going to take for you to believe me when I say I'm fine? I'm not unhappy, not at all. In fact, I can't get over how lucky I am that Simon is willing to go to bat for us and that, well," he paused as his lashes fell and shuttered his eyes, "that you're willing to have me as your partner for the long haul." Lightening the moment, he added impishly, "It's not everyone who would trust me with a loaded weapon - especially not behind them."

Jim didn't reply at once and Blair was beginning to think Ellison's thoughts had drifted away. But when his partner did speak, Sandburg was caught by surprise by the hesitant candor and emotion in Jim's voice. Maybe it was the dark and the rain and the feeling of being somewhere entirely remote, but sappy wasn't Ellison's style and he didn't usually come right out and say, "You're a far, far better friend than I deserve, Chief. The best I've ever had or will ever have." He hesitated a moment, and then he added hoarsely, "I know, sometimes, I react without thinking. I don't... didn't mean what I said before, well, you know." He sighed. "I'm sorry I bailed and left you to fix everything on your own. I... Maybe we could have figured out something that didn't have to cost you so much, if I'd stayed to talk." Jim paused again to lick his lips. "You say you feel lucky that I want you as my partner. Chief, you gotta know I'm the lucky one - that you're willing to do what you did and - Oh, hell. I'm not good at this. But I feel lucky that you stayed. That you didn't take off. That you're willing to work this through, even though I know it's not what you ever wanted and wouldn't have chosen... "

When Jim's voice died away, Blair struggled to sit up as he faced Ellison. "Jim, look at me," he commanded firmly. "I can't see you, but I know you can see me, right?"

"Right."

"And you're listening to my heart, so you'd know if I was lying or something, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, listen up, big guy, and listen good," he said sternly. "For my _whole_ life, my dream was to find a Sentinel. Sure, I love anthropology - it's about how people and society make things work or ultimately fail. There are lessons to be learned in all that. I can still learn - the books are out there, the links on the Internet still work. Yes, I love to teach, and I still can teach everyday interactions, sharing knowledge, encouraging curiosity and excellence. But my _highest_ goal was to find a Sentinel. I found _you_. And I got to be your _friend_. And now I get to be your _partner_ for the rest of our careers. What the hell else do you think could _possibly_ matter to me more than that? You're my best friend, Jim. You win over a few lousy letters behind my name, every time, hands down, no question."

Blair paused and blew out a breath as he fumbled in the darkness to find and grip Ellison's arm. "I _know_ you say things when you're upset that you don't mean. Everybody does that, Jim. It's human. I've been living in your back pocket for so many years that I think I probably understand you better sometimes than you understand yourself. Stop beating yourself up. I didn't mean that paper to get released. But even if I didn't personally release it, I did write it. You had every right to be furious with me, my mom, the world. But that didn't mean you weren't hurt - or that you stopped caring about me as your friend. If you'd hated me for it, you would have decked me and tossed me out on my ass. But you didn't do that. Relax, man. Everything is going to be okay. All right?"

"Why, Chief?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you searching all your life for a Sentinel? Hell, I never even heard of the idea before I met you. Most people haven't."

Caught by the question, Blair shook his head as he looked away and thought about it. "I don't honestly know, Jim," he finally murmured. "Maybe I heard a story when I was a little kid. God knows, I'd met the world's best-known shamans and gurus practically before I could talk. I've just always known there was a Sentinel out there and I had to find him."

"I'm glad, Sandburg, that you never gave up looking."

Blair huffed a small laugh. "Jim, are you sneaking painkillers or something? You are not sounding like yourself tonight."

"Why?" Ellison asked and then quickly held up a hand to stave off the answer. "Don't answer that," he added, knowing Blair couldn't see him in the dark. Hesitantly, he continued, "I don't know, Blair. I guess it's just that so much has happened in the last few months. I've been thinking, since the f-fountain, that... that I nearly blew it and I could never have forgiven myself or - "

"Jim, that's over. You brought me back, remember?"

"Yeah. But if I hadn't, if anything ever happened to... I don't want to ever know what that feels like again, you know? What it was like when... when you weren't breathing. And your heart had stopped beating."

"Thanks, Jim," Sandburg whispered, moved to his soul and finally realizing that he shouldn't be disputing with Ellison, but just accept the gift of honesty and candor being offered. It was a priceless treasure of rarely spoken words that was being delivered with an aching sincerity. Lying back down, he shifted so that he had his head pillowed on Jim's shoulder. "I'm here and I don't plan to go anywhere for a long, long, _very_ long time."

Jim replied by lifting his arm around Blair and drawing him in close, his cheek resting on the younger man's curls.

They fell asleep listening to the sounds of the raging, howling winds and the incessant drumming of rain upon their tent.

 

* * *

 

It rained all of the next day, sometimes heavily and sometimes a steady drizzle. Except for brief, and very rapid, excursions to meet the calls of nature, they remained within the confines of the tent, playing cards and eating more of the emergency sandwich fixings they'd brought with them. Ellison dozed through the afternoon while Blair read one of the academy texts that he'd borrowed from the PD. It was still raining when they settled into sleep that night, once again huddled together for warmth.

 

* * *

 

When Blair woke on the second morning of their retreat from the world, he found the rain had finally stopped, though the air felt heavy and damp. The light filtering in through the canvas was dull and dispirited. Yawning, Sandburg extricated himself gently from Ellison's embrace, but wasn't surprised when his small movements woke the Sentinel.

"Sweet dreams, Chief?" Jim teased in reference to the hard erection he'd felt pushing into his hip before Blair had rolled away. Waking arousals weren't all that uncommon and he didn't take it personally.

"Ah, yes," Blair sighed and then grinned with good humor. "I had the most divine creature in all existence ravishing me and wanting to be ravished in turn." Shaking his head, he groused, "And look what I woke up to find. Talk about a major disappointment." Ignoring Jim's snort, he scrambled out of his sleeping bag and crawled to the entrance to untie and push the flap back. The world around them was dim and gray, thick with tendrils of low-lying fog that twined around the trees and hovered over the river. Sniffing, he pushed his hair back and said, "I'm just going to, ah, take care of my 'disappointment' and see if I can find some dry enough deadfall for a fire."

"Stay within sight of the river, Sandburg," Jim drawled. "I'm not up to tracking you down if you get lost in the woods."

"Oh, very funny," Blair protested with feigned umbrage as he looked back over his shoulder. "Just 'cause I can't hear for miles, see faint tracings of a trail or sniff my way back to civilization, you _mock_ me. Very nice, Jim." But when he registered the faint lines of pain around Ellison's mouth and eyes, he added gently, "Turn down the pain dial before you start moving around - down, but not all the way off."

And then he slipped out the tent, returning to his disgruntled mumbling about being treated like a kid who'd get lost crossing the street or like someone who couldn't find their way out of a paper bag - grinning when he heard Jim chuckling behind him. Having come to a place of appropriate privacy, he added in an amused voice, "I'm about to take care of my 'disappointment,' Jim, so you might want to stop listening to me for a while."

There was a bark of laughter from the tent and Blair snickered. Jim was so easy to tease and Ellison got such a kick out of it; they both did.

 

* * *

 

Blair returned not long after with an armload of small twigs and branches he'd scavenged from under fallen trees. The wood was slightly damp but not sopping from the long downpour, good enough to get a fire going for coffee and breakfast. Jim had hung the soaking wet clothing he'd discarded two nights before on a branch to dry out, which would probably take a while since the air was heavy with moisture.

"So, who was the divine creature of your dreams, Chief?" Jim ventured, his eyes twinkling, though his expression remained bland.

"Like I'd tell you? To be mocked? And then teased and humiliated when you tell everyone else when we get home?" Blair objected. "No way, man. Some things are meant to be kept private."

Rolling his eyes, Jim taunted, "I was just wondering what made the creature so 'divine'. Care to enlighten me?"

Squatting by the fire he was building, Blair stilled for a moment. He knew Jim was expecting a description of an enticing wench, but he couldn't do it; if he lied, Jim would know and maybe wonder why, when the subject was so apparently innocuous and inane. Keeping his head bent, his attention on the wood, he replied with the truth, but kept his tone jocular. "My dream lover has the most beautiful soul, the most gentle touch... Really a rush, man."

"Beautiful soul, Chief?" Jim echoed disbelievingly. "I was thinking something a little more - tangible."

"Yeah, I know," Sandburg looked up with a devilish grin. "But that's because under that stoic and proper exterior, there lurks a typically dirty old man."

"Old?"

And so it went, the banter easy and light as they prepared and ate breakfast and Blair took the dirty dishes to the river to wash them. He looked around at the looming hillsides covered with pines and now shrouded in gray mist. Not a particularly good day for a hike and Jim wasn't up to that, anyway. Too chilly to stand around fishing all day. Everything seemed muffled, sound distorted by the water and the fog.

And that gave him an idea.

"Hey, Jim," he called as he returned to their camp. "I was thinking this is a perfect day... "

"You've got a weird idea of what's perfect, Sandburg," Ellison interjected with an unhappy look at the heavy mist.

"... for a test," Blair completed, cocking one brow and waiting for it.

"A test?" Jim exclaimed, utterly dismayed. "You've got to be kidding me. Here? Now?"

Laughing, undeterred by the predictable response, Blair nodded. "Yeah, man. Look, sound is distorted by the water and the mist, and likely the echoes off the hills, right? So, what better time to hone those listening skills of yours? You can't say it's not relevant - not with the weather we have in Cascade, the proximity of the ocean and the manmade cliffs of brick and steel. I thought I'd take the boat out into the middle of the river, anchor it and give you directions from out there about what to listen for. You can sit here, all nice and comfy on your log, and make notes about what you think you hear me saying or about other sounds, and I'll do the same. We can compare when I get back and see if there were distortions, and then we can work on how to correct them. C'mon, Jim," he cajoled when Ellison looked less than thrilled with the idea, "it's something to do and useful, too."

Nodding grudgingly, Jim scrabbled in their packs for the writing paper and pens they'd brought along to keep score during card games. Blair took his admittedly basic 'research tools' and, after grabbing his jacket and binoculars from inside the tent, he ambled down to the dock and drove the boat out into the wide river.

"Take a minute to orient yourself to what you hear easily, Jim," Blair murmured once he'd cut off the engine and was sliding the anchor into the water.

Every once in a while, Blair shifted his position on the river to see if that made any difference to Jim's ability to hear him. The last time, he anchored the boat near some loud rapids upriver, just under a short cliff, knowing the conflicting sounds and echoes would prove challenging.

At first, watching Jim's expression of frustration through the binoculars, he knew Jim wasn't hearing him. So he signaled to his friend to acknowledge the sound of the rapids and then set those sounds away. This was a critical test in some ways, as the noise of rushing water mimicked the effects of a white noise generator. If Jim could consciously overcome the sound, then he'd be less helpless if a generator was ever used against him again, as Brackett had done years ago. With some elation, he saw Jim win his struggle and start to hear his low voice under all the conflicting sounds.

After another fifteen minutes, an hour of testing in total, he figured they'd done enough and he could see that Ellison's shoulders were slumping with weariness. "Okay, that's it," he called loudly so Jim wouldn't have to strain to hear him anymore. "I'm coming in. Relax."

Ellison blew out a breath and rolled neck and shoulders - but stiffened again when the ground unexpectedly shifted slightly under his feet. He grabbed a nearby boulder for balance as the small earthquake shuddered past and looked out at Blair who was sitting in the boat, making a few notes before coming in. Already being jostled by the surging water at the foot of the rapids, Sandburg hadn't noticed the subtle shift of the earth. But then Jim heard something that sounded distinctly odd.

Tilting his head, he concentrated on the slick, sucking sound from somewhere close by, as he tried to figure out what it was. But when he heard branches cracking together, though there was virtually no wind, he lifted his head to look out over the forest. He blinked to clear his vision, at first not believing what he was seeing, and then his jaw dropped as he realized a section of forest was sliding inexorably down the steep hill - straight toward the cliff that loomed over Blair's position on the river.

Turning back to Blair, he shouted urgently, _"Landslide!"_ But, surrounded by the sound of the rapids, Sandburg didn't hear him. Frantic, Jim turned and lurched as quickly as he could to his backpack by the remains of their morning's campfire. He pulled out his gun and shot it into the air.

Blair looked up, alarmed at the sharp crack of sound, his gaze immediately seeking Jim.

Once again, Ellison yelled, _”Landslide!"_ and pointed to the shifting section of earth and trees that was fast rushing down to the cliff looming over the river.

Following Jim's gesture, Blair looked up and his eyes widened as his mouth gaped open. From where he sat only a few yards from the foot of the cliff, it looked as if half the mountain was sliding down directly toward him with the speed of a freight train.

"Shit!" he swore as he cut the anchor loose and lunged to start the engine and steer himself out of the path of massive, uprooted trees, boulders and tons of earth. But the old engine coughed and sputtered, offended by the damp, and wouldn't start. Blair swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, knowing that jerking the controls wouldn't help. "C'mon," he pleaded desperately as he tried again.

 _"Sandburg!"_ Jim shouted helplessly from shore as he hobbled down to the water's edge. _"Move it!"_

The engine finally caught, but too late. By the time Blair started to steer himself out of the danger area, massive trees were tumbling into the river around him. Great plumes of water spurted up, roiling with mud and debris, sending shock waves in every direction, rocking the boat dangerously and making it hard to handle. A good-sized boulder hit the bow, crushing it, causing the old boat to tilt sharply, and tossing Blair overboard.

Sputtering as he came up for air, kicking madly, he fought the drag of his suddenly sodden jacket and clothing. Twisting in the water, he looked frantically for the boat, hoping to grab onto its side to help him keep afloat, but it was gone, broken up and sunk. Muddy water sprayed and splashed as more of the landslide hit the river, creating powerful eddies that warred with the swift current; massive trees broke up under the pressure, cracking with thunderous snaps, to send loose boughs and branches surging into the increasing chaos of the river's center. The strong, fast-moving current caught him and the debris, so that he was surrounded and buffeted by massive branches. It was tempting to just grab one and hold on to stay afloat, but the landslide wasn't over and he had to get away before he was caught and crushed under it.

Blair shrugged off his jacket, the shirt peeling off with it, and toed out of his sneakers even as he was turning away from the cascading destruction to swim hard and fast toward Jim, hoping the current would help him. But a heavy bough sharply grazed the back of his head as it plowed into the river, driving him downward under the surface. Fighting off panic, he pushed and shoved at the branches that clutched at him, holding him under, his lungs bursting with their need for air.

Not _again!_ he thought with desperate fear. He had to get to the surface! He had to breathe!

Finally, somehow, he made it clear of the entangling limbs and kicked as hard as he could toward the glimmer of light above him. God, it seemed so far away! How had he ended up so deep? He had to get to air! But his ribs hurt, and one arm wasn't working right, and it was getting dark, the water so churned up with mud and debris - his vision was failing - he could hardly see where he was going. His lungs were bursting with their need to breathe, and he knew with a sick sense of panic that he couldn't hold his breath any longer.

He pushed with all the strength he had left to reach for life, his right hand and forearm breaking the surface...

 

 

But another broken tree or plummeting boulder crashed into him and he couldn't help the gasp of pain or the water that surged into his nose and mouth. Blair writhed frantically, fully panicked now, knowing without doubt that he was once again drowning. Sandburg felt a last blinding blow to the side of his head - and then nothing.

 

* * *

 

Jim stood upon the shore, almost frenzied by fear as he cursed his helplessness to do anything but watch as Blair fought to get the old boat's engine started. But when the boulder crashed into the vessel and Sandburg was thrown into the water, Jim kicked off his shoes and tore off his shirt. The deadly urgency of the situation forced him into cold control. He couldn't help Blair if fear compromised his reason. He was already limping awkwardly but swiftly into the cold rushing water when he saw Blair disappear under the wreckage of a tree and his gut clenched with sick nausea. Ruthlessly, he focused his sight and hearing. His searching gaze was giving him nothing but the muddy water, roiling violently under the assault of the landslide of earth and trees, so he wrenched his eyes away and closed them, tilting his head to put all he had into listening for Sandburg.

Once he'd focused on his friend's heartbeat, he could hear Blair's struggle, the thrashing of his arms and legs to get clear of the grasping branches and he dove into the river, swimming strongly against the current on an angle to bring him to where Blair was being carried by the fast flowing water. He was halfway to his partner when he saw Sandburg's hand break the surface and then disappear as if suddenly jerked back. It was hideous to hear Blair struggling, gasping and gurgling... _drowning!_

Jim dove to get under the floating debris; blinking against the mud and small bits of bark and stone that irritated his eyes, he searched the cloudy water with fiery urgency. Dammit, where was Sandburg? His own need of air forced him back to the surface and he desperately clung to his control - he had to find Blair and the only tether he had was the sound of Sandburg's heart beating frantically in a vain effort to sustain life without air.

He dove again, driving himself down with hard kicks and long strokes - and he finally spotted Sandburg floating limply in the current not much farther ahead. With a surge of strength, Jim reached and grabbed hold of his best friend's hair and hauled him to the surface. But even when their heads broke into the clear, Blair remained limp and unbreathing. Swiftly, Jim adjusted his grip and hauled Sandburg back to the shore, having to dive twice to avoid collision with the ruined trees that were clogging the waterway.

Finally, he dragged Blair awkwardly up onto the stony bank, limping heavily before stumbling to his knees over his best friend, pounding on Sandburg's back and performing a quick Heimlich to force water out of the younger man's lungs. And then he was breathing life into his partner, while fervently praying that his friend's fluttering, struggling heart would keep on beating.

Water streamed off their bodies, but Jim was heedless of the discomfort of being soaked or of the chill of the wind. _C'mon, Chief!_ he begged in his mind as he covered the kid's mouth over and over, and blew long streams of air into him. Blair's lips were blue and slack, his eyes closed and his face gray. Jim sobbed with his effort as hideous memories of the fountain merged with the terrifying reality of his nearly lifeless partner's face again cupped in his hands.

After five long minutes, Blair's body convulsed as he gagged up water and coughed roughly, unconsciously gasping for air. Jim turned him swiftly but carefully to his side, so he wouldn't aspirate the water back into his lungs, and then leaned back, dizzy with effort and relief, though he knew the danger was far from over. Hastily, he examined Blair for injuries, using touch, sight and hearing. His Guide was covered in scratches, and bruises were already darkening his face and body. His left arm was obviously broken and Blair moaned, curling in pain, when Jim felt his ribs. Several were cracked and he thought at least one might be broken. Delicate fingers probed Sandburg's skull and he found two lumps already growing, one near a scrape on Blair's left temple and the other on the back of his head. Finally, he felt gingerly Blair's spine and closed his eyes with gratitude that it, at least, seemed whole and undamaged.

Sagging back on his heels, Jim panted as he stared down at his friend. How long had Blair been without air? Seven minutes? Ten? Fifteen? Swallowing, Ellison looked back at the violent churning of the river, and the broken trees and branches surging past, as he tried to estimate how long it had been since Blair had started to drown until he'd hauled him onto the stony beach. But it all blurred together and he couldn't really know. His throat tightened as he returned his frightened gaze to Sandburg and wondered if it had been too long - if Blair might have suffered brain damage.

Regardless, the kid was very badly hurt and needed medical treatment - but their boat was gone and they were stranded with no means to call for help. His cell phone wouldn't work out here, surrounded by the monolithic mountains. Trembling, Jim forced himself to his feet and wished his leg was strong enough to bear Sandburg's weight, but it wasn't. So he dragged Blair as gently as he could, mindful of the damaged ribs and possible internal injuries, up to their campsite. Once he was closer to the tent, Jim stripped off Sandburg's wet clothing and tossed it aside, and dried his partner's limp body. Then he rifled in his knapsack for a shirt that he tore roughly into strips to bind Blair's chest before covering him with dry, warm clothes and blankets. Once again pushing himself onto his feet, wincing at the protest from his wounded leg, Ellison hobbled toward the tree line to gather up short, straight sticks to use as splints for Blair's broken arm.

Only after he'd finished tending all of Blair's injuries as best he could, did Jim think to pull off his own still-sopping clothes and get into something warmer - and found his own wound had broken open and blood was trickling down his leg. Grimacing, he hastily bound it with what was left of his torn shirt before hauling on sweat pants. By then, he was shivering from the cold and from the shock as reaction set in. Forcing himself to keep moving, Jim carefully pulled Blair into the shelter of their tent and then, using his own sleeping bag as a base and Blair's to cover them both, along with the spare blankets they'd each brought, he lay down next to his partner and drew Blair close, to share what warmth they had between them.

He could hear the wet rattle of Sandburg's labored breathing and feel the chill that had settled into his best friend's body. _Dammit_ , he thought as he shivered with dread. They'd come here for peace, to restore their friendship and their souls after Sandburg had sacrificed himself to protect Jim's secret. And he'd been out on the damned river, why? To help Jim, as he'd been helping for years, to get control of the same damned senses. Why the hell did helping him have to cost Sandburg so much - maybe even his life? Jim closed his eyes as he drew Blair closer still, bending to kiss his friend's brow before shifting to cradle Sandburg tight against his body. His lips trembled, and a tear leaked out from under his lashes, as he drowned in grief and guilt.

"Don't you die on me, Sandburg," he begged, his voice hoarse. "God, Chief, please be okay... "

 

* * *

 

The day dragged on with no change in the unconscious young man. Sandburg’s breathing remained raspy and Jim winced at the slight bubbling he could hear in Blair’s lungs. Wary of doing further damage, Ellison yet knew that he had to help Sandburg clear his chest, so he turned Blair every half hour or so to thump upon his back to induce coughing. Gradually, it seemed to help and the lungs sounded clearer. But Blair remained insensible and nothing Jim did, whether calling to him, pounding on his back, carefully feeding him small sips of water or even pinching him, had any discernible impact.

As the dull, misty daylight dwindled into evening, Jim cursed in frustration. He knew Blair needed more help than he could give with his rudimentary skills learned as a medic years ago. But they were stranded, and Ellison had no way of knowing if the relatively small landslide, as devastating as it had been to them, would even be noticed further down the river. If the remains of the old boat didn’t wash up where someone would notice and wonder, nobody would even think to look for them for days, maybe more. Certainly, Simon and Joel expected them to stay away from Cascade for at least a week, depending on how Jim’s leg healed.

Knowing they both needed nourishment, Jim searched for deadfall and built up a fire, then heated a can of vegetable soup. Painstakingly, he separated out a cup of clear broth and carefully carried it back into the tent. Drawing Blair up against his shoulder, he fed the warm, healthy brew to Blair, drop by drop, relieved that he didn’t have to massage Sandburg’s throat to get him to swallow. Even something so small as seeing that the kid’s normal autonomic reflexes still worked gave him some measure of hope that Blair would eventually wake.

Night fell, and with it came more drizzling rain, chilling the air. Once again, Jim bundled Blair close, lifting the younger man’s head onto his shoulder to prop him up a little, to ease his breathing. Wrapping his arms around Sandburg, Jim closed his eyes and listened to the kid’s strong, steady heartbeat.

“I wish you’d wake up,” he whispered into the curls against his face. “You’re scaring me here, Chief.”

Jim dozed fitfully, haunted by shards of memory and nightmare. His helplessness in the face of Sandburg’s injuries mingled with that which he’d felt when his chopper had been blown out of the sky in Peru, and he’d had to watch his men die, one after another. Blair’s face merged with theirs and he saw Sandburg dead in the jungle, and that got mixed up with his vision of having shot the wolf that became Blair, and that memory morphed to the horror of seeing his best friend dead at the fountain. In other dreams, he heard himself screaming to Incacha to help, first in the Temple of the Sentinels, and then as if the conversation was immediate and he was demanding his Guide be spared. Around and around, the images swirled in his head, tormenting him. Blair finding him on the beach with Alex. Blair in front of cameras, denouncing himself. Blair...

He woke with a start, feeling exhausted and afraid, and then recalled why he was frightened as he turned to check the man in his arms. Dawn was filtering through the trees outside, the rain finally having stopped. In the light’s soft glow, he was able to see that Sandburg’s color seemed better, the stark, death-like pallor banished. He listened to Blair’s heart and breathing, relieved that both were strong. And he began to murmur encouraging words, imploring Sandburg to hear him and wake up. Finally, more than an hour later, Blair moaned softly and stirred against him.

Gently, Jim shifted so that he could look down into his friend’s face. “You waking up, Chief?” he called softly as he stroked Blair’s brow.

Sandburg snuffled and grimaced in discomfort, and then blinked. He looked toward Jim, but frowned. “Wassa matter?” he mumbled.

Ellison couldn’t help the grin that broke over his lips. He reached for a water bottle and helped Blair drink, but the young man seemed confused as his gaze wandered the tent.

“Why’d you wake me up, Jim?” he muttered. “Must be the middle of the night.”

“What?” Ellison gasped, relief vanishing as he studied Sandburg intently.

“‘s dark, man,” Blair groused and then yelped with pain as he moved his left arm.

“Easy, Chief,” Jim urged. “You’ve got a broken arm, and some banged up ribs. Probably got a monster headache, too.”

“You got that right,” Blair acknowledged, more awake and alert, as he lifted his right hand to gingerly touch his temple. “What happened?” he asked again. Finally realizing he wasn’t in his own bed, he patted the sleeping bag and added, “Where are we?”

Jim gaped at him, fear curling in his belly. Scarcely daring to breathe, he waved a hand in front of Blair’s face and, when it was clear Sandburg didn’t notice, his jaw clenched against a moan of despair as he closed his eyes in denial.

“Jim? What’s going on?” Blair demanded, his voice strengthened by anxiety. “Jim! Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Ellison managed to rasp. Swallowing, he went on, “I’m fine, Blair.”

“Blair?” Sandburg echoed, though he kept his voice low as fear sparked in his eyes. “You never call me that unless something really scary is going on. Tell me, dammit. Where are we? What’s happening? Have we been kidnapped or something?”

“No,” Jim replied, struggling to contain his own emotions. “No, we’ve been camping. You were on the river and got caught in a landslide. I’ve been... been worried about you, ‘cause, well, you’ve been unconscious for a while, almost a day. And there’s no way to get help... ”

“Oh,” Blair murmured softly, startled by the information, frowning now in thought, trying to remember. “Is Simon okay?” he asked then, concern again flaring in his eyes.

“Simon?” Jim repeated, shaking his head, not understanding. “Simon’s not with us.”

Blair’s eyes lost focus as he struggled to put his fragmented memories in order. “That’s weird,” he muttered. “We were going to meet you in Clayton Falls." Again shifting his gaze in Jim’s general direction, he asked, “But... but I don’t remember getting there... ”

“Oh, Jesus,” Jim gasped as he pushed himself up to stare at Blair. “That’s the last thing you remember?” he demanded.

“Well, yeah,” Sandburg replied, reaching to grasp Ellison’s arm, his hand flailing a little until his partner caught it and held on tight. Too tight - scaring him. “Jim, what’s wrong? You’re hurt, aren’t you? Would you just tell me, man? I can’t see a damned thing and you’re starting to make me nervous, okay?”

“Chief, I’m fine,” Ellison insisted again, but as he twisted to sit, he grunted against the pain in his leg.

Immediately, Blair tried to push himself up, wincing against the shards of agony that flared sharply in his head, chest and arm. “Dammit, you are hurt! Where’s the damn flashlight?” he muttered, frustrated by the darkness.

But Ellison pushed him back down. “Easy,” he insisted. “You’re the one who’s hurt here, Chief. My, uh, leg is healing from a bullet wound, but I’m fine. Just relax, okay?”

Blair squinted up at him, gritting his teeth against the fiery stabs of pain in his ribs and head. “Shot? You were shot? When? How? Tell me what’s going on, dammit!”

“You’ve suffered a head injury,” Jim replied, his voice tight, though he tried to hang onto some vestige of calm that he sure as hell didn’t feel, “when you were caught in the landslide. You were in the river at the time and you almost drowned. You’ve forgotten some things, Chief. But it’s probably just temporary.”

“What things?” Blair demanded impatiently. Then, becoming seriously annoyed by the confusion and the darkness, he asked again, irritation clear in his voice, “Where’s the flashlight? You might be able to see in the dark, but... ”

“It’s not dark, Blair,” Jim cut in, his voice hollow. “It’s morning. Daylight.”

Sandburg began to deny the nonsense of Ellison’s words, but then his face blanked of all expression. “You’re... You’re not joking around, are you? ‘Cause it’s not funny, Jim,” he challenged with quavering hope, trying to stave off the reality of what Ellison was telling him.

“It’s just temporary, Chief,” Jim said in a rush. “It has to be temporary. A side effect of the concussion, or something.”

“Oh, God,” Blair gasped, looking as if he’d just been punched and couldn’t get his breath. “I’m blind?”

“It’ll be okay,” Jim soothed, desperately hoping he was right. “It’s just the shock - it’ll wear off.”

Blair’s gaze whipped around the tent, like a frightened animal looking for a place to hide, and then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, blinking again, as if he could banish the black void that surrounded him. He began to pant in fear. But, as if realizing he was beginning to hyperventilate, he dragged in slower breaths as he tightly closed his eyes, seeking the more comforting darkness within as he struggled for control. He shuddered with the atavistic fear that coursed through him, the panic again surging when his shoulders were grabbed and pulled forward, and he struck out, but one arm was bound and the other trapped somehow, and then he realized Jim was holding him, pressing his head and body against the bigger man’s chest and calling to him.

“Easy, Chief, take it easy,” the older man repeated, over and over, as he held Blair close. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Sandburg wound his fingers into Jim’s shirt and held on, feeling dazed and scared and stupid for being such a wuss. He fought off his panic, but the inescapable reality of darkness remained. “I’m blind, Jim,” he whispered, sounding small and lost, his voice catching and cracking. “Blind.”

“I know, kid,” Ellison murmured, his own voice quavering with fear and compassion as he buried his face in Sandburg’s curls. “I know.”

“T-tell m-me wh-what h-happened,” Blair stammered, badly needing information, something to ground him, to make sense of what was going on. “Wh-where are w-we?”

“We’re camping along the Columbia river, the only way in by boat,” Jim replied, keeping his voice low and steady as he rubbed Blair’s back soothingly. “The boat broke up and sank. There’s no way for us to get out of here until someone comes looking for us." But his own voice cracked for so many different reasons as he added, “I’m sorry.”

Blair heard the grief for his injury and the guilt Jim felt for not being able to protect or help him, the sorrow and pain in Ellison’s voice. “‘s not your fault,” he murmured, his voice tight with his effort to regain some balance, some reason in the face of the horror he felt.

Jim’s grip tightened around him, and Sandburg heard his partner swallow convulsively as Ellison shivered. “We came up here to get some peace while my leg healed,” he grated. “You were in the damned boat when the landslide hit the river because you were helping me with my senses. Doing a test.”

Words to say that it was his fault.

Blair shook his head wearily, wincing against the pain in his head and the deep ache in his ribs and broken arm. “So, you shot yourself on purpose and then set off some dynamite so half the mountain would come down on me after tricking me into the boat to be helpless when it did? Sounds like a lot of work to get us into this mess, Jim,” he murmured, teasing. “Usually tests are my idea,” he added for good measure.

Ellison didn’t say anything, just kept holding him, but when he sniffed, Blair realized his friend was weeping. “Ah, Jim,” he whispered, shifting to wrap his good arm around his partner so that they were clinging to one another, each trying to give the other comfort. After long minutes, he asked quietly, “When can we expect someone to come looking for us?”

“Days, maybe longer,” Jim replied tightly. “Too long,” he added and then went on. “I didn’t want to leave you before you woke up. But - but maybe I could climb high enough on the ridge above us that the cell might work.”

Blair thought about that. But Jim had said he’d been shot; that they’d come out here for him to recover. “Not with a bad leg, man,” he replied firmly.

“But - ”

“No, not unless I go with you,” Blair cut in, tightening his grip. “I... I don’t want to be left alone... ”

Alone, in a strange place, in the darkness, hurt and in pain.

Ellison swallowed again, nearly swamped by his profound desire to safeguard and protect the younger man. “I won’t leave you, Chief,” he promised quietly. Which meant they were stuck, because he sure in hell wasn’t about to drag Sandburg up a mountain - the kid might still be bleeding inside his skull, and with the bad ribs, he could do himself further injury all too easily.

Heaving a sigh, Blair pushed himself back and once again scrubbed futilely at his eyes and then dragged his hair back, as if that might somehow help. “This sucks,” he muttered, more to himself or to the universe than to Jim. “How did you get shot?” he asked, striving for something to focus on besides his own fears. “And what else don’t I remember?”

Jim paused, trying to recall what he knew about trauma-induced amnesia. God, it had been almost a year since Clayton Falls!

“Jim?” Blair probed, fumbling to grip Ellison’s arm tightly. “How long? Jesus, man, say something.”

“Chief, I don’t know what to say,” Jim stammered. “I think you’re supposed to remember on your own. Telling you could just confuse things more.”

“Bullshit!” Sandburg exploded in helpless frustration. “I’m stranded God knows where, blind as a bat, maybe with other head injuries - I don’t need to play guessing games, Jim. How goddamned long has it been since we were in Clayton Falls?”

“Nearly a year,” Jim murmured and then watched the look of astonishment replace irritation on Blair’s face as he gaped and then sagged.

“A year?” he echoed in shock. “That’s... that’s a lot to forget.”

When Ellison thought of all that year had held, everything from a homeless archangel to an evil Sentinel, Blair’s death by drowning and resurrection, and the mess over the dissertation, he closed his eyes and wondered how he’d ever be able to tell Sandburg about the terrible things that had happened. “Yeah,” he rumbled disconsolately.

It was too much to take in. Blair started to shiver with the shock of his injuries and fear, and curled in his sleeping bag. He felt around for the edge of his covering, wanting nothing so much as to drag it over his head, go back to sleep and wake up from this horrific nightmare. It couldn’t all be real. His head was pounding relentlessly and nausea churned in his gut; his ribs and arm ached relentlessly and it was hard to breathe. He felt Jim tuck the blankets up around his shoulders and a gentle hand was laid on his brow. “I just... just need to sleep, I think,” he mumbled. “Maybe things’ll be better the next time I wake up.”

“I’m sorry, Blair,” Jim murmured again, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Sandburg shook his head tightly, denying the need for any apology but no longer having the strength for words. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply, shutting everything away but the feel of Jim’s hand and the sounds of the rushing river and the soft wind in the trees, until sleep claimed him.

 

* * *

 

As he stood by the river fishing for their dinner, it took all Jim had not to scream in rage at the world around him. Events had swirled all out of control and left him utterly helpless to do what needed to be done. Sandburg required medical treatment urgently. His head injuries were terrifying and might even get worse if bleeding or swelling was still going on inside his skull. His broken arm and ribs needed professional care. Jim knew he’d done the best he could to set the arm, but he was worried his effort wasn’t nearly good enough and the bones would heal crooked. But he also knew that scarcely mattered in the face of the larger threat. What if Blair’s blindness didn’t get better? What if his memory never came back? It had been three days since the kid had first awakened and there had been no change.

Blair had been wretchedly miserable when he’d awakened for the second time after the disaster. Blinking, he had looked around hopefully and then with growing despair. When he heard Jim move beside him, he flinched and then forced himself to relax. “It’s not a dream, is it?” he’d asked, his tone mournful, the question rhetorical. Every time he woke up after that, it was the same thing - the desperate hope in his eyes and then the dark acceptance, only he never voiced the question again. It wasn’t a dream, not a nightmare. It was all hideously real.

His memory didn’t improve any, either. He kept badgering Jim, demanding to know everything that had happened that he couldn’t remember; haranguing, wheedling, cursing in frustration. It was driving him crazy not to know. A year was too long to lose. Had he finished his dissertation? Was he still partnering with Jim? Did he even still live in the loft? His last memory was of Jim wanting to get away on his own, and the sinking awareness that maybe it was a signal that he’d long overstayed his welcome.

But Jim didn’t know where to begin even trying to explain all that had happened, and he still wondered if it would help or harm Blair to be told rather than remember on his own. Ellison was afraid it would only compromise Blair’s chances for recovery - that he’d remember what Jim told him, not his own memories. It left a huge weight of tension on both of them, and even simple conversation became difficult and stilted as Sandburg struggled with his injuries and his fears, and Jim fought off the waves of helplessness, guilt and his own worries for Blair’s well being.

The only good news, as poignant as it was, was that Sandburg didn’t seem to be getting any worse. He was alert, articulate and had no mobility problems, so if there had been intracranial bleeding or swelling, it seemed to be under control. But Jim couldn’t help thinking that if he could have gotten Blair to a hospital, maybe something could have been done to address the reasons for his sight and memory losses; the more time that passed, the more Jim feared the conditions would be permanent. The memory issues they could deal with, eventually. But if Blair were permanently blind... what would they do then? He couldn’t deal with such a mind-numbing possibility, and his thoughts shied away every time the question arose. Nor would he discuss it when Sandburg raised the question - he could only insist that it wasn’t permanent, couldn’t be anything but temporary. Once, when the kid tried to press the discussion, Jim had simply counseled, “Let’s wait to see what the doctors have to say, okay, Chief?” Reluctantly, clutching at the hope Ellison persistently offered, Blair had stopped asking, but Jim was pretty sure the kid was still thinking about it, every bit as much as he was.

Hell, it was impossible not to think about.

Jim reeled in a good-sized trout, taking no joy from his success. He flicked a look at Blair, who was sitting dejectedly on a rock, his own rod gripped tightly in his right hand. He’d made a couple of catches that day, but Ellison had had to land the fish, which only underscored Sandburg’s feelings of incompetence and general uselessness.

“I think we’ve got more than enough for dinner, Chief,” Jim said quietly. Blair just nodded and, gritting his teeth against the pain of his splinted arm, began to awkwardly reel in his line.

Jim gathered the pail of fish and the rods in one hand and held out his right arm for Sandburg to hold for guidance as they made their way back to camp. Ellison’s leg was getting stronger and it twinged less - a fact that only made him feel even more unaccountably guilty. He was healing but Blair wasn’t.

Sandburg sat silently on a rock by the fire, perfectly still but for the wind gently blowing his curls, his face turned toward the warmth of the setting sun, while Jim cleaned the fish and then built up their fire. Ellison wondered if Blair realized his hands were always twitching, trembling like caged birds. And, though his young partner tried to keep a desolate expression from his face, his eyes revealed his fear and his heartbeat spiked on a regular basis, so the older man always knew when Blair was beating back another burst of anxiety. The silence and self-enforced stillness in a man who was always exuberant, talking, teasing, laughing and moving with restless energy was unnerving, and just about the saddest thing Jim had ever seen. His throat thickened and his eyes stung as he watched Blair and hoped with all his heart that the kid would recover.

Finally, as they were eating, still in silence, Blair gingerly picking at his food as he valiantly tried to spear morsels he couldn’t see with a fork, Jim couldn’t take it any more. His voice hoarse with emotion, he said, “Chief, I’ve been thinking and, well, I want you to know that no matter what happens, you’ll always have a home with me. We’ll find a way to deal with this if... if...”

“If this isn’t temporary,” Blair added flatly when Ellison’s voice faded away. Carefully setting aside his half-eaten meal, Sandburg continued, “I appreciate that, Jim, but I don’t need your pity.”

Stung, the older man protested, “It’s not about pity, dammit! I just want you to know that - ”

“You’ll take care of the blind guy,” Blair cut in, his tone bitter. Sighing, he held up his hands for peace and then he pushed his hair back behind his ears. “Jim, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I’ve been thinking, too. I’ll need to go somewhere for rehabilitation, sure. But I can still work at the university - lots of scholars are blind. I can teach and counsel. Write. Other people with disabilities manage just fine on their own. I’ll learn how if... if I have to. No way would I burden you with someone who’s no use to you now. Face it, my week of sufferance ran out a long time ago, and you know you’d like your life back. That’s why you went to Clayton Falls, isn’t it? To get some distance? Some peace and quiet? To get away from me?”

“ _No!_ You’re wrong about that; well, sort of,” Ellison insisted. “I wanted to see how I could manage on my own, that’s all. A kind of test - you understand tests, right?”

“Yeah, I understand tests,” Blair murmured. “But that doesn’t change things now. I can’t be dependent on you forever, Jim. I have to find my own way. It’ll be okay, I guess. I’ll... adapt, if I have to. At least I have the kind of career where that’s possible.”

But he didn’t have that career anymore and Jim didn’t know how to begin to tell him, but neither could he let the kid keep hoping he had something that no longer existed. It was cruel to let that go on - but the words kept catching in his throat. However, he couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“Chief, there are some things I have to tell you, even if I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do,” he said stiffly, his voice unsteady.

Sandburg turned his face toward Jim’s voice, cocking his head a little in unconscious mimicry of Jim’s mannerism when he was concentrating on listening. Frowning, he asked, “Jim? I can hear that you’re upset. But, hey, you really don’t have to worry about me. I mean, I’ll manage - other people do.”

“Just... just bear with me, okay?” Jim sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face. _Start with the easy part_ , he told himself. _Work up to the really tough stuff_. “Okay, I know you wonder what happened in this past year. I don’t want to give you just my take, but you remember that you keep extensive journals, right?”

“Right,” Blair acknowledged, nodding.

“If your memory doesn’t return soon, and if the doctors can’t give us any indication of when it will, I’ll read your journals to you, so that you can at least get your own thoughts and impressions of what happened.”

Sandburg smiled. “That’s a great idea,” he enthused, but then his expression clouded again. “Except, uh, well, you might not like everything I’ve written. I mean, when I’m tired or frustrated, sometimes I write stuff that - ”

“That expresses your irritation with me?” Jim interrupted. “Don’t worry about it. Might be good for me to see some of that. And it’s not like you don’t know most of my secrets.”

“Except the ones you’d have to kill me for knowing,” Sandburg teased, and grinned for the first time since he’d awakened and found his world in pieces.

Only, he didn’t know it all yet, how bad it really was, or might be, if he didn’t get his vision back.

“Yeah, except for those secrets,” Jim agreed, but his voice was strained. “There’s, uh, something else that I have to tell you, so we can be clear on what we’re going to do if you don’t get your sight... well, just in case.”

Sobering, Blair nodded and leaned forward a little, his whole body conveying his focused attention as if he were listening with every muscle and nerve.

“You finished your dissertation,” Ellison began, his mouth dry as he stared at his friend. Blair stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he took that in. “Your mother thought she’d be helping by sending it to an editor friend of hers in New York City, for advice, I guess, before anyone else saw it.”

“Oh, my God,” Blair gasped, reeling back, blinking, his mouth agape as he absorbed his partner’s meaning. _Jim_ hadn’t had a chance to read it. And ‘editor’ meant publisher! His sightless gaze flashed around the clearing and he shook his head. “Oh, God. Jim - oh, please, tell me nothing else happened. Tell me I got it back.”

“I can’t,” Ellison continued as he rose to stand by Sandburg, and reached out to grip his friend’s shoulder. “He wanted the right to publish it. Ended up offering you three million bucks. When you kept refusing, he leaked parts of it to the press and then there was even talk of a Nobel Prize nomination.”

Blair crossed his arms tightly and chewed on his lip as he shook his head. “I wouldn’t,” he stammered. “I would never do that to you. But - but it was the _finished_ draft, right? No names.”

Jim silently squeezed his shoulder and Blair’s eyes widened with absolute horror. “The media found out about you, didn’t they?” he whispered, aghast. “Jim, I swear I never meant - oh, God. I can’t believe you’re still talking to me. Jesus... ” His voice caught as tears glazed his sightless eyes - eyes that gazed up toward Jim beseechingly and then dropped as Blair curled into himself. “I’m sorry,” he grated. “I know that’s not enough; couldn’t ever be enough. Is that why we’re hiding out up in some inaccessible camping spot? To get away? To figure out what to do? Or were you going to kill me and hide the body where it wouldn’t ever be found? I wouldn’t blame you. Oh, damn, Jim. I never meant to betray you... I never... ”

“Easy, Chief,” Jim soothed as he looped an arm around Sandburg’s shoulder and drew him close. “You fixed it, but at a terrible cost to yourself.”

Drawing a shuddering breath, Blair thought about that. “I denied it, didn’t I? It would have been the only ethical option to protect you as my source. I shot myself down in flames.”

“On national television,” Jim acknowledged sorrowfully. “I wouldn’t have wanted that - but, uh, I wasn’t taking it all very well. We had a major case going. The Iceman was back and the media hype wasn’t helping.”

Blair snorted mirthlessly. “Why would you have taken it any differently? Oh, man. I _promised_ myself I’d never betray your trust. It was _fundamental_. Not just academically, or professionally. You’re my best friend and I _know_ how hard trust is for you, and how important control... ” But again his voice caught and broke. “Ah, Jim,” he shuddered, fighting the urge to weep and failing. “You believe me, don’t you? That I wouldn’t do that to you?”

“I know, Chief,” Jim sniffed, wiping an errant tear from his own cheek. “None of it was your fault.”

Blair wrapped his right arm around Jim’s waist, his head against his friend’s chest. “Thanks, man. Thanks for forgiving me,” he whispered brokenly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I destroyed our friendship.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Ellison replied firmly.

Sandburg quieted in Jim’s embrace. He took a deep breath and then another. “But I don’t have a career to go back to now, do I?” he murmured in a small, hollow voice.

“You were going to go the academy and become a cop - be my permanent partner,” Jim told him. “Simon had fixed everything, at least inside the PD, to make that happen.”

“Not much call for a blind cop, is there?” Sandburg observed, trying to sound wry, but he felt too overwhelmed, too lost. He tried to pull away, but Ellison held him firmly.

“We’ll work something out,” Jim said then, stiffening his shoulders. “If need be, I’ll go public. Everything you wrote is true. You’d get your Ph.D., and probably be rich and famous in the bargain. You’d have your career back.”

 _“No way,”_ Blair replied sharply, this time pulling back firmly as he fumbled to grip Ellison’s arm. “You have to _promise_ me that you won’t do that. I will not put you in jeopardy, Jim. I _won’t_. I couldn’t live with that.”

“Chief, I can’t just stand by and leave you hanging in the wind to protect me,” the detective insisted. “ _I_ couldn’t live with _that._ ”

“So that’s why you say I can live with you and you’ll take care of me if this never gets better,” Blair charged, flushing. “I don’t want your guilt and I sure as hell don’t want your pity, man.”

“No, dammit, it’s not about guilt or pity,” Jim cut back, offended. “Sonofabitch, Chief - you’re _my_ best friend, too. And I need you, to help with my senses. We’re going to have to find a way to work all this out, but I can tell you that cutting one another loose _isn’t_ an option here.”

Blair shifted on the rock he was sitting on, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to keep helping you if I can’t see?” he wondered, sounding stricken. “You’ll need another partner... ”

“You’re my partner, Sandburg,” Ellison stated unequivocally. “Whether you can see or not, you understand these senses and what I need better than anyone else ever could.”

Lifting his face to a sky he couldn’t see, Blair asked plaintively, “But what are we going to do if... if... ” He waved his hand at his eyes and bowed his head, feeling overwhelmed and defeated. “You need someone who can back you up, Jim. Someone who can _see.”_

Once again Ellison clasped his best friend’s shoulder as he leaned down, face to face. Even if Blair couldn’t see him, he could hear that Jim was right there, in his face, if that’s what it took. “We’ll work it out _together_. If the worst happens and you never see again, you’ll _still_ be my Guide, Chief. You’ll _always_ be my Guide.”

Blair bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop the tears from again filling his eyes, though he blinked hard against them. Too moved to speak, he nodded and then slowly turned toward Jim, who folded him into a tight hug.

“I’m scared,” he whispered then. “I want to be brave and I know millions of people manage perfectly fulfilling lives without being able to see. But I’m really scared, Jim.”

“I know, Chief,” Ellison soothed as he stroked Sandburg’s head, remembering his own horror at the blindness caused by his exposure to the illegal drug, Golden. “But you’re _not_ alone. And it’s too soon for either of us to give up hope that the doctors will be able to help.”

Blair took a shuddering breath and held on tight.

 

* * *

 

The next morning when they woke, Jim was even more worried about Blair, who seemed a little disoriented and was certainly dizzy. The kid finally admitted his headache was worse than usual, and he felt nauseated again. Ellison paled when he heard that and insisted Sandburg stay flat and rest. He wasn't reassured when Blair readily agreed and fell back into a heavy sleep moments later. Monitoring him, Jim knew Sandburg's heart was going strong and his breathing sounded okay, if still rattling a bit deep down. But if something was wrong inside the kid's skull, then they could be in really big trouble with no help in sight.

So, it was with no little relief that he heard the sound of a boat's engine approaching early that afternoon. He limped hastily down to the shoreline to flag in whatever fisherman might be casually passing by. But it was a park ranger who manned the small motor launch that appeared around the far bend and Jim wasted no time in hailing her. As soon as the woman got close enough to hear him, Ellison called out that he had a critically injured man who needed to be airlifted out. The ranger nodded and reached for her radio before pulling in closer and tying off on the remains of the old dock that had been wrecked by the heavy trees pushed past by the fast current.

"I'm Judy Hawkins," she said, holding out her hand as she waded to the shore. "Are you Ellison or Sandburg?"

"Ellison," Jim replied as they shook and then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the tent above them. "Sandburg was hurt in the landslide. Head injuries, broken arm, cracked and maybe broken ribs. He also almost drowned."

"I've called for a rescue chopper - should be here within twenty minutes," Hawkins replied as they made their way up to the camp. "A piece of old Hank Taggart's boat washed up downstream yesterday," she went on. "When we tracked Hank down, he told us he'd loaned the boat and the site to two of his kid brother's friends, so we thought we'd better check on you."

"I'm glad you did," Jim replied earnestly. "I was afraid no one would come looking for another week - and Blair needs help badly. I hope it's only temporary, but he was blinded and his memory for the past year is gone."

The ranger paused and shook her head. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured as she peered into the tent at the sleeping man, grimacing when she saw how young the kid looked. Damned shame. When she turned back to Jim, Ellison was looking at the sky, his head cocked.

"Chopper's coming," he sighed with evident relief, missing Hawkins' frown when the ranger found she couldn't hear the helicopter. "Can they take us directly to Cascade?"

"No problem," she readily agreed. For serious head injuries, there was really no other choice.

 

* * *

 

Blair was barely coherent when Jim roused him for the journey. His headache was so bad he couldn't focus on anything else, not even the basket lift to the hovering helicopter that had so unnerved him years before. Not willing to be left behind this time, Jim insisted a winch with body harness be lowered for him. In less than twenty minutes, they were being ferried to the hospital, an hour away. Sandburg faded in and out of consciousness during the journey, reaching out for Ellison, confused, alarmed by the noise surrounding them, and he kept mumbling for Jim to "turn it down".

The rescue worker in the back of the helicopter with them thought the confused man was talking about the roar of the engine and shook his head. But Jim knew that, even in the midst of his own dire suffering, Blair was still focusing on his Sentinel's needs.

They were met by emergency staff on the helicopter pad on the roof of Cascade General, and Blair was swiftly transferred to a gurney and rushed inside. As they'd been alerted to his condition, he was taken directly to x-ray to obtain a clearer picture of what was going on inside his skull and chest, and to examine the break in his arm. He was restless and dazed, and the darkness that surrounded him left him feeling completely defenseless and utterly vulnerable.

Deeply worried about Blair's increased state of disorientation, Jim stayed close, touching when he could, offering verbal reassurances when he had to stand back as Sandburg was stripped and examined. An intravenous drip was started, and EKG as well as EEG leads were adhered to his body and head.

"Mr. Sandburg?" the emergency physician called to Blair, as she firmly grasped his face between her hands. "Do you understand me?"

When Blair blinked and nodded, the doctor continued, "There's evidence of hemorrhaging inside the back of your skull, as well as some swelling of the brain tissue near your left temple. We're going to have to operate immediately."

Blair looked frightened, his eyes wide, his skin pale, as he struggled to focus on the meaning of her words. He nodded again, mumbling, "Jim... Jim has my power of attorney. He can sign - "

But just then, he gasped and vomited violently, and then convulsed as he passed out.

Simon arrived, having been called by the ranger at Jim's request, just as Sandburg convulsed. Jim was frantic, barely able to focus on the consent forms on a clipboard that someone pushed at him for signature. All he wanted was to touch Blair, to gather him up and protect him, so when he looked up and they simply grabbed the forms and ran, rushing away with Sandburg to the Operating Room, Banks had to hold him back from chasing down the hall behind them.

"Jim, what the hell happened?" Banks demanded, profoundly shocked and frightened by what he'd just witnessed.

Ellison shook his head tightly, and swallowed hard against the dryness of his mouth and throat. Half his attention still on Blair's vital signs, though the younger man was now out of sight, he grated, "There was a small earthquake, but Sandburg was out in the boat and didn't feel it. He didn't notice that it started a landslide down into the river, and he couldn't hear me shouting at him. He got caught in it - almost drowned again when the boat broke up; he was hit by rocks and trees that dragged him under. When he woke up the next morning, he... he couldn't remember the last year, nothing since the two of you started out for Clayton Falls."

"Oh, God," Simon murmured as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"It gets worse," Jim continued as he turned to gaze at Banks, a stricken look of helpless fear in his eyes. "He's blind, Simon."

Banks gaped at him, and then visibly swallowed, as if he felt suddenly, viciously, ill. Taking a breath to steady his emotions, he asked, "When did this happen?"

"Five days ago," Ellison replied dully. "Without the boat, there was no way to get him out of there to help. He, uh, he was lucid until this morning, but then he started getting dizzy and confused." Jim closed his eyes briefly, and shook his bowed head. "We're just lucky part of the boat washed up and was recognized - a park ranger came out to check on us this afternoon."

The Emergency doctor returned then, looking grim as she strode toward them. "I'm sorry for all the confusion a few moments ago. I know you must be worried," she said immediately. "As you could see, the intracranial pressure has reached dangerous levels, so we had to get him into surgery immediately. Dr. Rowan, an excellent neurosurgeon, is working on Mr. Sandburg now."

"Will he be all right?" Simon asked when Jim seemed too overwrought to speak.

Sighing, she shrugged. "It's hard to tell with these kinds of injuries. The brain is both fragile and amazingly resilient." Looking toward Jim, she continued, "The memory loss, even the blindness, may only be temporary but there's no way of knowing that right now, and his condition has no doubt been aggravated by the delay in getting help. I'm glad you got him here when you did, though. He has a good chance of surviving, but, as you could see, it was a near thing."

"How long before I can see him?" Ellison asked then, his voice unsteady.

"The surgery is delicate - certainly it'll be a few hours," she replied. "Why don't you go home and clean up a bit? Maybe get some rest. Someone will call - "

"We'll wait, thank you, Doctor," Simon intervened, knowing it would take an army to get Jim away from the hospital before they had word on Sandburg's condition.

"I understand," she acknowledged. "There's a waiting room outside of Intensive Care, on the third floor. I'll ask the staff up there to alert you as soon as he's settled."

 

* * *

 

Dr. Rowan, a short, middle-aged man with a thatch of unruly salt and pepper hair, found them in the ICU visitors' lounge three and a half hours later.

"Detective Ellison?" he asked, as he strode toward them. "I'm Angus Rowan and I've just finished working on your friend."

Jim and Simon stood at his approach. "How is he?" Ellison asked anxiously.

"Holding his own," Rowan replied briskly. "By creating a small opening at the base of his skull, we have alleviated some of the pressure in his skull, but we can't do much about the swelling except give him meds to bring it down. Right now, I've got him in an artificial coma to help the healing process. He won't wake until tomorrow morning, at the earliest."

"What about his memory loss and... and blindness," Jim continued. "Are they temporary?"

Chewing on his inner lip, the specialist pondered what he'd seen of the x-rays and the pressure that had been exerted by the slow bleeding into the skull. Tentatively, he replied, "The swelling around his temporal and frontal lobes may account for the memory problems, and that might well improve as his brain recovers from the trauma, though it may take time. His blindness was caused by the pressure of the slow hemorrhaging in the back of his skull. Again, now that we've relieved that, there may be improvement. I'm sorry. I'm afraid we'll have to wait until he wakes up - and even then, it might take time."

"When can I see him?" the detective demanded then.

Rowan looked at his watch. "Give it another half hour or so, and one of the nurses will come to fetch you," he said. "But again, remember, he won't be responsive, and it may be a bit frightening for you to see him that way. He's on a respirator for now; that will help his lungs, as well, as there's still some fluid in them from the accident. I understand he nearly drowned a few days ago?"

"Yeah," Jim replied as he unconsciously rubbed a hand over his head and massaged the back of his neck.

"You did well to keep him going, Detective Ellison," Rowan encouraged. "His arm and ribs were well tended, and his lungs were clearer than I might have expected." Taking in the haggard look of his patient's friend, he added, "You look like you could use some rest. You'll be able to see him for fifteen minutes - and then I want you to go home. Visiting hours in ICU are flexible - you can come back anytime, day or night, after you've had some sleep yourself."

Jim nodded dully, having no intention of leaving, but lacking the energy to argue the point. Watching him, Simon sighed, knowing he was going to have a fight on his hands to get Jim to follow the doctor's recommendation.

 

* * *

 

Jim retreated into silence while he waited to see Sandburg, and Simon left him briefly to call the office to update the others and to get them both some coffee. He took his time on the journey to the cafeteria, as he had his own thinking to do. If Blair never recovered his sight, then the academy was out. Lifting off his glasses to rub his eyes, he wondered what options they'd have then. Surely, there could be no question of Sandburg continuing as Ellison's partner, unofficial or otherwise, but that had implications for Jim. He needed backup who understood and could deal with his special needs and skills. There was also the issue of Sandburg's own academic career. Simon couldn't imagine that Jim would ever allow the kid's professional self-immolation to stand if Blair needed to be able to fall back on his university work for a living. And that had implications for how they all handled the media feeding frenzy if Jim decided to go public.

As he carried the disposable cups of coffee back up to the Intensive Care Unit's waiting lounge, Simon decided there was no point in worrying about it all yet. The specialist had held out some hope, and the kid was lucky in a weird kind of way. He got into all kinds of trouble and tight spots, but he always seemed to land on his feet. Banks could only hope Blair's luck hadn't run out. At least he was alive, which was more than he'd been for too long by that damned fountain at Rainier, a little more than six months ago. If he had to lay a wager, Simon would bet on the kid and his odd link to Ellison. To Banks' way of thinking, it didn't make sense that Sandburg could be brought back to life only to suffer all this now if there was no hope. Not a particularly philosophical man, though a spiritual one, Simon had to wonder why these two always seemed to have to pass some damn test of survival and commitment to one another. The Sentinel thing put his teeth on edge; the enhanced senses were odd enough, but the other flummery of seeing ghosts, and visions, let alone witnessing the resurrection of a patently very dead man, left him gravely unsettled. He didn't understand it all, and didn't pretend that he even wanted to. He just wanted it to keep working.

"I talked to Joel," he said as he handed Jim his coffee. "He and his brother will see to getting your gear and truck back to Cascade."

"Thanks," Ellison replied, meaning it, but the details didn't interest him.

"Any word yet?" Banks asked as he sank into the chair next to his friend.

"No," Jim replied wearily as he reflexively blew on the hot liquid before sipping it.

"How're you holding up?" the captain probed gently, concern in his dark gaze.

"Fine."

"Yeah, right," Simon sighed as he rolled his eyes and shook his head at the monosyllabic responses. "It must've been tough being stranded like that, with no way to get help, worried... " he prodded further, believing Jim would be better talking than bottling it all up inside, as he was so inclined to do.

Ellison nodded and lowered his head, the muscle in his jaw flexing tensely. Banks had about given up hoping he'd respond at any greater length but, finally, Jim said softly, "It was driving him crazy, not knowing what he couldn't remember, but I didn't think I should tell him. God, Simon - how do I tell him about Barnes and everything that happened?" He swallowed, and his voice dropped lower as he continued, "He's scared about being blind. But he's so brave, you know? He kept saying he'd manage, if he had to - that academics could function just fine without being able to see. He didn't remember what just happened, the press conference."

Banks blew out a heavy breath and shook his head sadly.

"I told him about that," Jim admitted wearily. "I couldn't let him go on believing that everything at Rainier was fine. I told him I'd go public and he'd not only get his degree and job back, but would probably end up rich and famous." Pausing to gaze at Banks, he went on, "He wanted me to promise not to do that. Said he couldn't live with me being at risk." Looking away again, he sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "He said he didn't want to burden me if this turned out to be permanent. But I need him, Simon. Nobody else understands like he does, or can do what he can to keep me grounded and focused."

"Let's just get through this a step at a time, Jim," Banks rumbled soothingly. "He might be okay. We don't know yet."

Jim tightened his lips and nodded, sinking back into the chair as he lapsed back into his silent watch of the closed door into the specialized care ward. Banks sipped his coffee and did some more thinking. Clearly, whether Sandburg could ever see again or not, Ellison still wanted him, even needed him, as his partner. Closing his eyes, Simon wondered how the hell a vision-impaired person could keep up with Ellison, even if that person was the inexhaustible and intrepid Blair Sandburg. He shook his head, knowing full well that Sandburg would try, even if it were insane and too dangerous. The kid might consider himself a coward, and say so loudly and clearly to anyone who would listen, but he didn't have the least sense of self-preservation when it came to supporting Jim.

And not just Ellison, Simon sighed. More than once, Sandburg had thrown caution to the wind and followed Jim on missions to help rescue Simon, and his son, too. The kid might be a lot of things, but a coward wasn't one of them.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly an hour before a white-garbed nurse came to escort Jim into the unit. He steeled himself for what he was going to see, having been temporarily blind himself and only able to visualize Sandburg on a respirator the time the kid had been poisoned by the Golden-laced pizza. But his knees felt wobbly when he got his first look at Blair. The younger man had a broad bandage circling from the back of his head over his temples and brow, his wild mane of curls sticking out the top and loosely tied out of the way. The respirator obscured the lower half of his face, and his ribs were securely bandaged, the white of the gauzy cotton stark against the fine dark hair of his chest. And his left arm was now encased in a cast, supported on a pillow by his side. EEG and EKG leads, along with intravenous and blood pressure lines and a catheter, seemed to hold him captive in a web of plastic tubing. A light sheet covered his abdomen and legs. Blair was perfectly still and pale, with dark shadows under his lashes, too deeply unconscious to feel any pain.

Ellison approached the bed with hesitant uncertainty, feeling utterly useless and an abject failure when it came to protecting this most special of men. It was supposed to have been a simple camping trip. Fun. A respite. Shaking his head mutely, he reached out to drift his fingertips along Sandburg's cheek before lightly grasping his partner's right wrist. At least Blair was getting the care he needed. And no one seemed to think he was in any danger of dying or suffering worse damage than had already occurred. Biting his lip, his throat thick as he blinked back the burning in his eyes, Jim fervently hoped the damage would prove to only be temporary and Sandburg would soon be fine.

When the nurse came to tell him it was time to go, he started, surprised. He'd been unaware of the passage of time or his surroundings as he'd stood by Sandburg's side and prayed.

 

* * *

 

Jim felt guilty leaving the hospital, but he understood that he wouldn't be any good to Blair if he didn't get some rest. So long as Sandburg was in a drug-induced coma, there wasn't much Ellison could do for him, and he doubted that the kid could even hear him if he talked to him. So he went more docilely than Simon had expected and, perversely, that only made the captain more worried about him. But deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Simon only murmured that Jim was being sensible and took him home.

The loft seemed empty, and at first Jim thought it was Sandburg's absence that left the place feeling hollow. But when he got a beer from the fridge and wandered into the living room for the first time since before Zeller shot him, he noticed things were... missing. The afghan wasn't on the back of the sofa. The candles were gone from the bookcase, along with other small treasures that Sandburg had placed amongst Jim's things over the years. The kid's CDs weren't on the shelf. Frowning, Jim ambled back into the kitchen and took a good look at it. At first, nothing seemed different, but then he opened the cupboards and found all of Sandburg's teas and spices were gone, along with the algae mix packets.

"What the hell... ?" he muttered as, frowning, he headed toward Blair's room. He froze in the doorway when he saw the walls had been stripped of pictures and the old tribal mask; the desk was clear, the bookcase empty, and boxes were stacked against one wall. The closet door was partially open and he could see it, too, was empty; the clothing that wasn't still at their campsite was no doubt packed in the battered old suitcase under the desk.

A cold ball settled in his gut as he realized what he was seeing. Blair had been planning to move out. If they hadn't made him that offer of a badge a week ago, he would most probably have already left town. Jim sagged against the doorframe and then sank down to sit on the floor. Bowing his head, he struggled to remember what Sandburg had been doing, how he'd looked and acted, when they'd all descended upon him in the Major Crimes' bullpen. At the time, Jim knew he'd been so excited about tossing Blair that badge that he hadn't really taken in his partner's demeanor.

Now, he remembered. Blair had looked wan - exhausted and very, very sad. His eyes had appeared to be twice their normal size in his pale, drawn face and his voice had been hesitant, almost cracking, when he'd first come out of Simon's office. Shit. He'd been there to bring some kind of closure to all the years when he'd been part of the team. He'd been planning to leave and never come back.

And, now that he thought about it, Jim didn't have much difficulty coming up with all the reasons as to why Sandburg would have thought leaving was the only option open to him. Well, he was a detective, after all, skilled in determining motive and intentions from the evidence and circumstances at hand.

Blair was a self-proclaimed liar and fraud who didn't believe he could credibly be Jim's partner anymore.

Knowing Sandburg, and his overriding concern for the security of Jim's secret, he probably worried that people would ask too many questions if Jim let him keep living in the loft.

He didn't have a job anymore, or any means of supporting himself in Cascade after having been fired by Rainier, and he would never allow himself to be dependent upon Jim or anyone else. Given his local notoriety, getting a job meant getting out of town.

Sighing as he rubbed his forehead, Jim remembered telling the kid, in no uncertain terms, that it was over and he should move on, and he had never retracted those statements - had just thought the kid understood, like he always understood.

And how would Blair know he had any options other than leaving? In all the fallout after Zeller had shot up the station, nobody had really talked to Sandburg until the day he'd been offered a permanent job if he'd go to the academy and become a cop.

Up until then, Blair must have thought he was totally alone and essentially friendless.

Jim swallowed hard and rested his elbows on his knees as he covered his face with his hands. He'd never thought about what Sandburg must have been suffering those days alone here, while he'd been in the hospital. Hadn't realized that, of course, Blair couldn't see a future in Cascade because they'd wanted to surprise him when they all got out of the hospital, and so no one had offered him any interim hope or encouragement. Dear God, what terrible anguish he must have borne alone during those long, lonely hours and days... and nights. Without complaint. Without any hint of what he was enduring, dealing with, trying to survive, with no one to support him or comfort him - because he sure in hell wouldn't have sought any emotional refuge with his charming but nitwitted mother. And he didn't think Jim really wanted him around anymore, so Ellison would have been the last one to know how he'd really been feeling, how lost and forlorn he must have been.

And Jim couldn't even ask him what his plans had been, couldn't encourage him to talk about it all, because now Blair couldn't even remember that he'd packed up and decided to leave. But to go where? To do what? Had he had any idea? Or was he just going to wander off with no real direction or destination in mind?

No wonder Sandburg had been euphoric over the offer of a job. Not just for the income and the possibility of some defined future, but because it meant that he wasn't despised - was, in fact, wanted, even needed. Still trusted and valued by the people who knew him best. Simon's offer must have seemed like a miraculous lifeline to a drowning man. Did he even want to be a cop? Or was it any port in a storm, any job when he'd been bereft and nearly destitute? Was he happy because it was what he really wanted or because he really didn't have a lot of choices?

Swallowing hard, shaking his head, Jim pushed himself to his feet. And then he began to undo all that Blair had done. The clothing went back into the closet and the dresser drawers. The pictures and mask were hung back on the walls. Sandburg's journals and books were neatly replaced in the bookcase. The afghan came out of the linen closet and was folded over the sofa. Candles and little mementos and CDs were returned to their places on the bookcase in the living room. The spices, teas, and even the revolting algae packs, went into the kitchen cupboards. When Blair came home, he'd know this was his home - the very last thing he needed right now was any doubt about the fact that he belonged in the loft.

When he was finished, Jim showered and then headed upstairs. He needed to get some sleep, however restless or fitful. When Blair woke, he was going to need a lot of support and Ellison was determined to give him whatever he required to feel safe and wanted.

 

* * *

 

Ellison was back in the ICU visitors' lounge by 4 a.m. The staff took pity on him and, setting aside the fifteen minute, once an hour visitation rule, let him sit by Sandburg's bedside so long as he was quiet and didn't try to disturb his friend.

 

* * *

 

At 8 a.m., Rowan arrived to examine Blair's chart, lab reports and vital signs, taking special note of the EEG printouts. Nodding to himself, he waved over a nurse and they removed the respirator. Jim heaved a quiet sigh of relief at that; the last thing Sandburg needed was to wake up to the discomfort of the tube in his throat and the relentlessness of a machine breathing for him. He'd had enough trauma without that torture and the anxiety of worrying that he needed help even to breathe.

"How does it look?" Jim asked before the specialist left. "Does the, uh, EEG indicate improvement?"

"Not yet, but the drugs are still in his system," the neurologist replied calmly. "We'll see how things stand when he wakes up."

 

* * *

 

Just after 11 a.m., Jim detected an increase in Sandburg's heart rate and respirations, signs that he was beginning to rouse. Rising to stand beside the bed, Ellison gripped Blair's wrist and watched... and waited. A few minutes later, the young man moaned softly and blinked, and then his eyes opened. Blair frowned in confusion, his gaze darting around.

"Hey, Chief," Jim called quietly. "Don't worry. You're in Cascade General and you've had some surgery."

Blair's gaze shifted toward his friend, but his eyes didn't focus. "Jim," he sighed, grateful that Ellison was there, and he shifted his arm to tightly link his fingers with Ellison's. "It's still dark," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the irritation of the tube in his throat all the previous night. His face pinched with fear, he asked resignedly, "It's permanent, isn't it?"

Ellison was grappling with his profound despair that Blair's vision hadn't improved with the lessening of the pressure on his brain. "We don't know yet, Blair," he replied, trying to sound calm and hopeful. "The doctor said yesterday, after the surgery to relieve the pressure inside your skull, that it might take some time."

Sandburg blinked as he thought about that, struggling to focus despite the lingering effect of the drugs in his system. He nodded slightly and his lips twisted in a chagrined expression. Patience wasn't exactly his strong suit, but he didn't have any choice but to wait and see. He sighed. 'See.' Would he ever 'see' again? Tentatively, he felt around the bandage and winced a little when he touched the incision area at the base of his skull. "My hair?" he asked, feeling sheepish but hoping his appearance hadn't changed, especially as he had no way of really knowing what he looked like anymore.

"Mostly intact," Ellison reassured him gently. "They only had to shave a little space that won't show.

Blair nodded, relieved, and he once again sought his friend's hand, holding on tightly as if being able to touch Jim helped him keep his balance in a very uncertain world.

"How's your memory, Chief?" Jim asked then. He watched as Blair consciously tried to access memories of the past year, and his heart sank at the sorrow that flared in Sandburg's eyes.

"Still gone," the kid said mournfully.

Ellison reached out to stroke his cheek, as the wide bandage covered Sandburg's brow. "It'll get better, Blair. Just give it some time."

Sandburg swallowed as his gaze dropped away, his lids hiding the expression in his eyes. He nodded tightly, but he looked far from convinced.

 

* * *

 

Sandburg was moved out of ICU to a regular hospital room for the next few days, while he underwent various tests, including an MRI and a CT scan. He insisted on appointments with an occupational therapist before leaving the hospital, so that he could begin adapting to the dark world he now inhabited; whether it was permanent or, hopefully, temporary, he still had to function. Before long, he was loaded down with audio tapes and books to help him learn to read Braille, had been issued a collapsible white cane and taught how to use it, and was exploring computer software that would adapt to sound rather than visual cues. He was also taught some basic living tricks, like holding the tip of his finger inside a cup or bowl to gauge when it was nearly full, and how to quarter a room to learn where things were so he could navigate in his own home or workspace. Blair didn't want to think about the first time he'd venture out of the loft on his own, but he knew he couldn't become a hermit, afraid of the world he couldn't see. He just kept telling himself that lots of other people did it, lived with quiet courage and faced down the demon fear.

Though panic and terror of the future flickered constantly on the edge of his consciousness, he held tight to his emotions and just focused on what he had to learn, what he had to do. Falling apart wouldn't make anything better. Screaming in rage at the unfairness of life wouldn't let him see the sun or the stars, or the faces of people he loved. Weeping in despair wouldn't wash away the perpetual darkness that surrounded him and left him feeling so desperately vulnerable. Pretending it would all just get better wouldn't help him to live with the reality of what was.

Jim watched his friend quietly prepare to live life on different terms, and he wanted to encourage Blair, but the words stuck in his throat. Accepting the measures the kid was taking was too much like accepting that Sandburg wouldn't get better, and he couldn't face that possibility. But he was profoundly moved by Blair's courage in getting on with what was needed. Ellison remembered what it was like to be blind and not know if he'd ever see again. He knew, firsthand, the terror of that, just as he recognized the determined drive to keep going, to not be defeated by what he couldn't control. But, much as he often resented them, he'd had his senses to help him manage in a dark world; Blair didn't have those advantages, so his struggle to adapt and accept without giving way to anger or despair or crippling fear was even greater than Jim had endured. Sandburg had stood by him during those terrible days and Ellison was determined to return the favor as best he could.

Rowan finally came by to discuss the results of all the tests and both men waited tensely for his prognosis. "Well," he began soberly, "it's always hard to predict how any individual brain will respond, but the test results are not discouraging. There is no evidence of permanent scarring, so it's reasonable to hope that your memory, or much of it, anyway, and your vision will eventually return."

"Eventually?" Blair echoed, wanting to feel elated, but too burdened by the reality of the present to be excited that neither loss was necessarily permanent.

"And that's the rub," the specialist sighed. "There's no way to predict how long it might take. You might wake up tomorrow and find everything's pretty much back to normal, though that's unlikely. It might take six months or longer. I'm sorry. I wish I could give you something more concrete."

"Hey," Sandburg conjured a fragile smile, " _someday_ is a whole lot better than _never_. Thank you."

Rowan squeezed his shoulder approvingly. "Good man," he said, and then continued. "I'll be signing your discharge papers this morning. Call my office to make an appointment for a couple of weeks from now so we can see what progress is being made."

Jim smiled at the knowledge that he could take Sandburg home, but he sorely wished they had a better idea of how long the kid was going to have to live without his sight or the memories of the past year. Well, he could help with that at least. He'd sorted out Blair's journals and would begin reading them to his partner as soon as Sandburg wanted to get started.

 

* * *

 

When it was time to leave the hospital, Jim had to restrain himself from helping Blair to dress, remembering how important it had been to him to be able to do things for himself when he'd lost his vision. But he unconsciously grabbed Sandburg's arm when they reached the entrance, and the kid was released from the wheelchair, to lead him to the truck.

Blair pulled back and shook his head. "No, please don't pull or drag me places, Jim," he said firmly. "Let me hold your arm, just above your elbow. It gives me a better sense of balance and control - like being led by choice rather than just hauled along."

"Sure, sorry," Ellison replied, grimacing. He hadn't really noticed that that was the way Blair had led him years ago, but he remembered the sensation of discomfort when anyone else had grabbed him to pull him from place to place.

During the drive back to the loft, Sandburg sat with his head cocked a little, listening intently to the sounds of the streets around them. Glancing at him from time to time, Jim could see frustration in his friend's eyes and the frown of concentration as Blair tried to process the confusing sounds to imagine the objects and situations that they represented.

Blair let him lead the way into the apartment, but, once inside, Sandburg let his arm go. While Jim hung up their jackets, he shook out his cane and moved tentatively toward the kitchen. "Is everything pretty much arranged the way it was a year ago?" he asked, hoping his out of date memories would still suffice to help him get comfortable in the loft.

"Pretty much," Jim confirmed, watching him, grief in his eyes.

Nodding, Sandburg continued his exploration, getting to know his home in a whole new way. With his left arm in a sling, he couldn't touch surfaces while his cane picked out obstacles. Jim heard him murmuring under his breath, "Fridge, center island, cupboards, stove... "; a soft litany as he inventoried everything, and marked his physical surroundings on a map in his mind. Once he'd been around the whole lower floor of the apartment once, he returned to the kitchen.

"You want a juice or beer or anything?" he asked, less than fifteen minutes later.

"I can get it," Jim offered from his position, still by the door. Jim had waited patiently, despite his desire to follow along behind to ensure Sandburg didn't hurt himself somehow. Ellison remembered how important it had been for him to get his sense of bearings and knew it would only make Blair nervous, and undermine his confidence to imply he couldn't fine his way around within the safety of his own home.

"Let me try," Blair insisted. "I have to do this, Jim. You can't be waiting on me all the time."

"Okay. I'd like a glass of juice; it's too early for a beer."

Nodding, smiling a little nervously, Blair folded up his cane and set it on the island. Then he opened a cupboard door, slowly but unerringly reaching for one glass and then another, setting them both carefully on the counter. Shifting to the refrigerator, he reached in tentatively, delicately touching plastic containers and bottles. Pulling out the carafe in which they typically kept the juice, he set the beverage down and he felt around for the first glass and shifted a little so that he could put the tip of one finger of his left hand just inside the rim. Biting his lip, he flipped open the lid of the carafe, sniffed it to be sure it was juice and that it was fresh, and then poured carefully.

"Hope you don't mind a finger inside the rim, but it's the only way I can tell how full the glass is," he explained diffidently, embarrassed. "I can't hear the difference as it fills yet, but they said I would in time."

"I don't mind," Jim replied, his heart breaking. God, he hoped Blair wouldn't have to suffer this for the time it would take to acquire that skill of subtle sound differentiation.

Once he was done, Sandburg put the juice back into the refrigerator. He picked up one glass and handed it to Jim with a shy but radiant smile of accomplishment.

"Thanks, Chief," Ellison murmured, blinking back poignant tears at Blair's evident pleasure in the small triumph.

When they adjourned to the living room, Blair suggested Jim carry his drink for him; he didn't want to take a chance on spilling it as he navigated his way around to his usual seat on the sofa. He settled himself with his legs crossed and then held out his hand for the glass. Ellison sank into his usual chair and they sat in silence for a moment - uncomfortable silence as the reality of Blair's blindness and memory loss hung between them.

"So, I guess it's too early for a game to be on television," Sandburg ventured.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "The Jags are playing later this afternoon, though, against the Cougars."

"Good," Blair replied and then took a sip of juice. After another pause, he asked, "How's your leg doing?"

"Fine," Jim replied. "I'll be able to go back to work next week," he added. "Which reminds me, we need to talk about how we're going to work together now."

Sandburg gaped a bit, but recovered quickly. "Uh, Jim, I don't know how that's going to possible," he hedged. "I mean, unless my Master's is good enough for a civilian consultant job. And, uh, if I've labeled myself as a liar and fraud, I'm not likely to be too popular in a cop shop."

"Simon and the gang had already started dealing with that when we headed out to fish," Jim informed him, recalling belatedly that Sandburg didn't remember any of the plan. "Simon has already clued in the Chief, the Commissioner and the D.A. to my senses and they're all conducting a kind of whisper campaign within the PD that your paper wasn't the fiction or lie you said it was. The idea is that the other cops will be glad to know there's a Sentinel in their midst and you'll look like something of a hero for protecting me."

"Oh," Blair replied, his brows arching as he thought about it. "That's actually a pretty good idea. Maybe a civilian consultant position would work, then. So we just have to figure out how to deal with my current disability." He dipped his head, chewing his lip and frowning in concentration. "For the usual stuff, briefings in the office, crime scene investigations, I can probably function pretty well. But the chases and arrests might prove challenging."

"Challenging?" Jim echoed, astonishment coloring his voice that Blair would even consider playing a part in the more dangerous activities. "Face it, Chief, you're going to have to learn to stay in the truck."

Blair grinned and shook his head as he leaned forward and carefully set the empty glass on the coffee table. "I don't know, man. I hate to miss all the excitement, and those are the times when you need backup the most. But I do grasp the problem." The grin faded and he sighed as his gaze wandered sightlessly across the ceiling. "This really sucks, Jim."

"I know it does," Ellison replied quietly, sadly. "But Rowan seemed to think it's likely only temporary. It won't be forever, Sandburg. We just have to... do our best, I guess, until you're better. If the consultant role works, maybe you wouldn't have to go the academy. We'll just have to see how it goes."

"You're right," Blair agreed, trying to set his anxieties and frustrations aside. "I just really hope it comes back sooner rather than later. I don't know how people do it, Jim. The idea of heading out to the corner store on my own scares the shit out of me, to tell you the truth."

"There's no need for you to do any of that sort of thing on your own," Jim replied firmly. When it looked like Blair was going to object, he hurried on. "Remember when I was temporarily blinded a couple of years ago, you did all the shopping and running around for both of us. I'd go with you if I wanted, but you wouldn't let me do stuff like that alone."

Blair's jaw tensed and he looked away. Jim frowned and then rose to sit beside his friend and gripped the kid's shoulder. "You're afraid it won't be temporary, and I understand that," he said quietly. "I really do. I was afraid of the same thing. But you can't stop hoping, however much you want to do your best, just like I did, until your sight returns. I'm not going to let you go through this alone anymore than you let me deal with it alone. You got that?"

Blair nodded and leaned into Jim's touch. "I don't know how you did it, Jim. God, you were so brave, going up against those drug dealers. I don't have that kind of courage - I'm scared, man."

"You think I wasn't scared?" Ellison sighed. "I couldn't have handled it without you and all the help and support you gave me, and that's the honest to God truth, Chief. You have every right to be afraid. I've been amazed at how well you've handled it so far. You haven't gotten angry, and it seems to me that I blew up more than once. You've been dealing with it as best you can - don't tell me you're not brave. 'Cause I know differently."

Sandburg trembled under his hand, and had to blink and swallow heavily before he could whisper, "Thanks, man. That means a lot, you know?"

Jim pulled him into a sideways hug and rested his cheek on Blair's hair. "It's going to be all right, Chief. _You're_ going to be all right."

Blair nodded and simply rested against Jim for a long moment, enjoying the strong, steady support that he knew he could count on. He took a deep breath to settle his emotions and then pulled back. "Okay, so we have a plan to deal with the blindness. Now I need to know what I can't remember, so when I go back to the PD with you, I won't feel like I'm missing something. You feel like reading to me for a while? I'd really like to know what's in my journals."

"You got it, Junior," Ellison agreed readily. "I'll just get them from your room and we'll work our way through them."

Moments later, Jim was back with a high stack of notebooks that he placed on the coffee table. "How do you want to do this?" he asked. "You want me to skip through and give you the highlights?"

"No, sorry," Sandburg replied apologetically. "I'd really like to know everything I wrote - I'm hoping something will jog something loose in my memory, and there's no telling what that might be."

"Okay," Ellison agreed as he picked up the first journal he'd picked out, the one that dealt with the trip to Clayton Falls. "If you have any questions as we go along, just ask. Otherwise, I'll just keep reading."

"Thanks," Blair murmured as he pushed his hair back off his face and settled against the sofa. Jim opened the book and got started on giving Sandburg's memories back to him.

 

* * *

 

Blair was astonished to learn he'd thought he was going to die in Clayton Falls, and his journal notes were very candid about his concerns that Jim was growing weary of his company in the loft. Ellison's throat tightened as he read that bit, knowing far worse was to come. Blair was quiet, his face turned away when he finished, and he stopped reading for a minute.

"You need to know that I want you here in the loft, Chief. I want you as my permanent partner," Jim stated clearly and unequivocally. "There's some very tough stuff that happened in the past year, stuff we maybe should have talked about more both as it was happening and after, but no matter what these journals say, I don't want you to ever think this isn't your home."

Blair turned back toward the sound of his voice. "Thanks," he murmured. "It's good to have that real clear, especially now."

"Okay," Ellison replied, and then began to read again until they both decided they were hungry.

They broke for a late lunch and to tune into the Jags' game. Jim felt uncomfortable watching a game that Blair couldn't see, but Sandburg just shrugged. "It's not as good as watching it, Jim, but up until fifty years ago, everybody thought simply being able to hear a game on the radio was amazing. Enjoy it - if I'm missing something, I'll ask."

When the game finished, the Jags actually winning one for a change, they ordered in pizza and went back to the journals. A while later, Blair was snickering over someone called Megan thinking Jim was psychic. "I can't wait to meet her," he chortled. "What does she look like?"

"Oh, she's almost as tall as I am, with this mane of dark chestnut hair and green eyes; pretty, I guess," Jim replied off-handedly.

"Chestnut? You mean she's got red hair?" Sandburg echoed, his tone teasing. "And you want to keep rooming with me?"

"Don't start, Romeo," Jim growled. "She is not my type. Yours maybe, but not mine."

Blair snickered and shook his head. "And she calls me 'Sandy'?" he chuckled. "Man, what is it with you cops? I've got more nicknames now than I had for the whole rest of my life put together!"

When he heard about their undercover assignment in suburbia, he asked softly, "Was I really in love with her, Jim?"

Ellison paused and thought about it. "I know you really cared for her and her daughter, Chief. But I think you were more in love with the idea of having a family of your own, than in love for real," he replied finally. "But you were sorry to never know for sure, I know that. There just wasn't time to let the relationship develop."

The thought of maybe having met the archangel Gabriel made Sandburg smile like a kid on Christmas morning. "The tough part of a miracle is making it look like an accident," he repeated, after Jim had finished that recounting. "Do you think he really was who he said he was?" he asked eagerly. "That would be, like, so amazing!"

"I think it could be possible, Chief," Jim replied indulgently, glad to see Sandburg excited and happy at the idea. "The guy's fingerprints matched someone who had died the winter before, so who knows?"

Blair nodded, but then his glow of amazement muted to a solemn expression. "You were pretty upset about that first chapter of the diss. I'm sorry about that. But if I knew that, why did I keep writing it?"

"We had a deal, Sandburg, you know that," Jim replied wearily, but he'd often wondered the same thing. "You help me with my senses and you got to write it all up for your Ph.D."

Blair frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't feel right to me," he murmured. He chewed on his lip and thought about what his motivations would have been. "I mean, I know the information is really important and could help other people. But I also know I wouldn't want to ever hurt you. Damn, I wish I could remember!"

"It'll come, Chief," Jim counseled supportively. "Don't fight it - just let it happen."

Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Blair lifted his hands and let them fall. "I guess I don't have much choice," he muttered.

"Look, it's getting late, and we've covered a lot of ground," Jim noted then. "You need time to process what you've heard today before we tackle more. Let's call it a night."

But the truth was, Ellison was dreading the notes that dealt with Alex Barnes and all that had happened then; he thought it would be best to cover that ground in the morning, when they'd both have more energy to deal with it all.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jim made them a hearty breakfast, and then they adjourned with their second mugs of coffee to the living room to resume the reading of Blair's journals. Ellison held the closed notebook in his hands and stared at the cover. "This next bit isn't easy, Chief," he said, his voice strained. "My senses spun all out of control and I'm still not at all comfortable with how I behaved. So, uh, be patient with me, okay?"

Blair tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the hesitant tone. Whatever was coming next was truly upsetting to his friend. "It's okay, Jim," he offered gently. "We must have got through it, right? We're okay now."

"We're better than just 'okay', Blair," Ellison replied staunchly and opened the book.

Sandburg's eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he heard he'd found another Sentinel. The notes conveyed his initial excitement, but Jim's tone continued to be strained, so he could tell the discovery wasn't good news. When he heard how Ellison had gone territorial, kicking him out of the loft, he shrugged a little, but didn't say anything as the information wasn't all that surprising; Sentinels were, by nature, territorial. But the news that Alex Barnes turned out to be a criminal who had deceived him and cost him Jim's trust made him bow his head with guilt and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know why I didn't tell you right away - it's basic research protocol. But I was wrong, especially given how you were acting at the time. I messed up pretty badly."

Ellison blew out a breath and looked at the notes that Blair must have written when he'd returned to Rainier after Jim had told him their partnership was over. His voice caught as he read that bit, the pain Blair had been feeling at the time underscored with salt stains on the paper, and he had to set the book down. "I over-reacted," he said stiffly. "I made a huge mistake and... " His voice broke and he had to swallow quickly.

Not understanding, Blair asked, "What happened, Jim? Why are you so upset?"

Ellison rose to cross the room and sit beside his best friend. Gripping Blair's shoulder tightly, he said, "She killed you, Blair. She drowned you in the fountain outside your office. We tried to revive you, Simon and I, but... but you were dead."

"That's not possible," Sandburg stammered in shock. "I mean, I'm here, alive. I couldn't have been dead."

Jim sniffed and swiped at his eyes, shook by the memories. "The EMTs said it was too late, that there was nothing they could do."

Blair blinked and shook his head. "Then how... ?"

"Incacha told me to use my spirit guide," Ellison told him quietly. "I held your face between my hands and, all of a sudden, I was in a jungle and I saw the wolf, your spirit guide, heading away toward this bright light. I called out to you and the wolf turned back toward my spirit guide, the black jaguar - and then the two animals raced toward each other and leapt into one another. They, uh, melded in a burst of light. And your heart started to beat again."

"My God," Blair breathed, stunned. "You brought me back to life? How could I not remember that?" He looked away, dazed, trying to take it in. "That's incredible," he whispered, awed. "And Simon witnessed it?"

"Simon, Megan, H and Rafe," Jim said. "They all saw it. Nobody has talked about it since, including you and me, except for very briefly at the hospital later. But we all know that some kind of miracle happened that day. I got another chance, Chief. I... I just about went nuts thinking I'd lost you. I don't know how I could have lived with it if... if... "

"Hey," Blair murmured as he turned toward Jim and hugged him as tightly as he could with one arm in a cast. "You saved my _life_ , Jim. You brought me back from the dead. _Thank_ you."

Ellison held his partner close as he tried to rein in his turbulent emotions. "I never thanked you for coming back," he choked. "I should have. I should have."

"No," Sandburg sighed. "You saw the wolf - I _know_ I must have jumped at the chance to come back. No way would I ever want to leave you, Jim. You gotta know that."

"I know it now," the older man replied as he kissed Blair's brow. "I don't ever want to lose you, Chief."

"You won't," Blair replied with a soft smile. "You're stuck with me, big guy." After a moment, he pulled away, anxiety in his eyes. "What happened with Alex and the nerve gas? Did you get her?"

"Uh, yeah," Jim sighed. "I guess we'd better get to that part." Once again, he opened the notebook, staying beside Blair as he returned to the notes.

It was hard for both of them to hear what Sandburg had written about what happened in Mexico. He'd been hurt and confused, however much he'd pretended to accept Jim's behaviors with Barnes. And he'd been angry, deeply angry.

"I'm sorry," Jim said softly.

"You weren't in control, Jim," Blair replied calmly. It had been hard to listen to, but he didn't feel the hurt or the anger, didn't remember it. But he was starting to think this memory loss wasn't such a bad thing. Apparently, they were talking about stuff that they should have talked about at the time - and maybe healing some wounds. Jim's, anyway. "From what I wrote, it's pretty clear I knew that. I guess I was just pretty confused at the time." Shrugging, he added, "I was probably dealing with all kinds of feelings about having died and then being brought back to life." He looked away, frustration plain on his face. "I can't believe that I don't remember any of this. How could I possibly forget?"

Ellison gripped his shoulder and asked, "Is that enough for now, or do you want me to keep going?"

"Oh, keep going," Sandburg replied, his tone very firm. "But, first, I want to know if we ever talked about what you saw in that pool."

Helplessly, Jim shrugged and raked his fingers through his hair. "No, but all I remember are broken fragments, Chief," he replied with no little frustration of his own. "It all seemed to make sense at the time - a lot of it was bad, really bad. I saw death and people being hurt - some of that has already happened, and we'll get to it later. Don't worry - whatever I remember seeing has worked out okay. Anyway, Incacha appeared, I remember that - and I saw you, over and over. Like you were grounding me, somehow. But I... I can't remember why it all seemed so clear, or what I _knew_ and then forgot." Suddenly, Jim felt, at a gut level, the frustration that Blair had to be experiencing only in much larger measure, to _know_ that he'd forgotten critical things, and he bit his lip. God, how could the kid stand it?

Sandburg scratched his cheek as he thought about what Jim had said. "You willing to try hypnosis sometime? We could try to bring it back from your subconscious."

"Maybe," Jim hedged. "Maybe. But for now, let's keep going with your notes."

When Blair nodded, he opened the book again, and started to read,

 _We've been back for a week now, and I've tried to understand what happened, is happening, to me. I know, intellectually, that it has everything to do with Jim bringing me back to life, and the profound spiritual connection we both had to feel when that merging occurred - but it's soooo weird. Maybe it'll wear off or something - maybe I'm just plain crazy. If he felt anything like the same thing when our souls melded, no wonder he didn't want to 'take that trip' with me. He would have been horrified - it's just so not who he is. I can't ever let him know. God, he'd freak out if he realized..._

As his eyes scanned ahead, Jim's voice died away and he gasped, "Oh, God."

"What?" Blair demanded. "What's weird? What would make you freak out?" When Jim didn't answer immediately, Sandburg grated, "Don't do this to me, Jim. Don't read what I wrote and not tell me what I said."

"I just - you never let on," Ellison stammered. When Sandburg gazed blindly toward him with frustrated exasperation and waved for him to get on with it, he turned back to the notes and read unsteadily.

 _God, he'd freak out if he realized that I've gone from loving him like a brother and the best friend I'll ever have, to being so passionately in love with him that I can hardly breathe for wanting him. It sure freaks me out, and scares me, but I don't know what to do about it._

Blair gaped at him, frozen with astonishment. " _What?_ " he squeaked when he could breathe again, still blinking rapidly in nervous disbelief. "I'm in love with you?"

"That's what it says, Chief," Jim replied, equally stunned.

 _"Ooohhhh, shit,"_ Sandburg cursed softly as the implications of it all registered. Jim hadn't guessed, so that meant he must have worked really hard to hide his true feelings - and now had unwittingly 'outed' himself by having Ellison read his journal. He turned away from Jim, cringing as he said, "Uh, maybe we should be hoping that I never do get my memory back." Crossing his arms, he added tightly, "And maybe we've read enough of the journals. I think it might be better if you just tell me what happened after we got back from Mexico."

"Chief, I - "

But Blair quickly lifted his hand, palm out between them, to cut him off. "No, Jim. We're not going to talk about this," he babbled nervously. "I obviously never meant you to know, and I frankly don't remember feeling like that. There is _nothing_ to discuss. You said, you said that we were better than 'okay' and that you want me to live here and work with you. Fuck, I don't want to risk that or - Jesus. Just leave it - pretend I never wrote that. It doesn't exist."

Embarrassed, shocked, severely unsettled, uncomfortable and astonished, Jim muttered grateful agreement as he hastily closed the book and gingerly set it aside. But he wasn't sure how he was supposed to forget that he'd just learned that Blair was in love with him, whether Sandburg remembered it yet or not. In the awkward silence, he studied his best friend and partner and could clearly see that Blair was as stunned as he was by the revelation. And then, his eyes narrowing in thought, he couldn't help wondering if Sandburg had been so euphoric about the offer of a badge and permanent partnership because he was in love, and not because it was really what he wanted to do with his life. His mind boggled at the idea of Sandburg lusting after him - and he didn't have a clue as to what to do about it. Guiltily, he wondered if maybe Blair was right - that it might be better if Sandburg never did get his memory, and those feelings, back.

Wary of the tense silence between them, not wanting Jim to even think about what he'd just read, Blair hastily asked that Ellison continue on with the facts about what had happened after they returned home from Mexico. More than willing to be distracted, Jim spent the rest of the day telling Sandburg about Blair's student, Ventriss; Jim's long ago lover, Veronica; a master thief named Harry; an actor who believed playing a detective gave him the skills to be one; a ghost named Molly; and about Kincaid taking over the basketball stadium. When he told Blair the younger man had shot a weapon with intent, to help cover him while he tossed a smoke bomb into the submarine to make the terrorists submit, Sandburg looked thoughtful. So, he'd been ready to actually _shoot_ someone? The idea disturbed him profoundly, but he didn't want to talk about it. He guessed he must have resolved his fundamental aversion to guns if he'd been willing to consider being a cop. Briefly, he actually felt grateful for the blindness - it had given them the impetus to think of a different solution to making him Jim's fulltime, permanent partner, a solution that wouldn't require him to carry a gun. But he also wondered if he'd agreed to become a cop simply and solely because he was apparently in love with Jim and had evidently lost his mind in more ways than one.

By the time night had fallen, Ellison had finished recounting the disaster of the dissertation. As disturbing as those events were, though, they both found talking about what happened infinitely preferable to thinking about what Blair's journal had revealed earlier that day.

But after they'd both turned in, neither could sleep and both wondered what the new knowledge might mean to their friendship and partnership. The genie was out of the bottle, and there was no way to get it back inside, however much they might both sorely wish they could.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, groggy from lack of sleep, Blair had more difficulty than usual navigating the loft. He clipped the doorframes of both his room and the bathroom, bouncing off and reeling a little before flinging out his right hand to feel his way forward. Jim heard him muttering and cursing softly, and his heart clenched with sorrowful empathy. But when Sandburg stubbed his toe, hard, on the kitchen counter, he swore loudly and viciously. And then it was as if a damn broke, all his pent up emotions and fears flooding out, drowning him. He slammed his fist against the counter and stood heaving for breath, his head down as he fought off the tears of frustration and sick despair that burned in his eyes.

"Hey, easy, Chief," Jim called out, alarmed as he hastened down the steps from his bedroom.

Sandburg held up a hand to stave Ellison off as he gritted his teeth and struggled with his emotions.

"Maybe you should just let it out, Blair," Jim offered, his tone low and kind. "You can't hold it all inside forever. It'll tear you apart."

"Let it _out_?" Sandburg echoed, his voice fraught with despair. "How do I do that when everything that's wrong is _inside_ my head? I hate this, Jim!" he seethed as his anger surged again. "God, I just want to... to scream and yell and tear something apart, but so what? It won't make anything better! I can't stand the darkness. I can't stand being so damned dependent, and useless and afraid. And I hate not remembering; it's like I've lost part of who I am. But now I'm even scared of getting my memories back because... because how could you stand it if.... Oh, shit!"

His voice cracked and he lifted his hand to cover his trembling lip as he sank to the floor and curled toward the kitchen cabinets. "I'm sorry, man," he whispered brokenly.

"Ah, hey," Jim exclaimed softly, undone by Sandburg's despair. He dropped down on one knee to gather Blair into his arms, but the younger man resisted, too humiliated and overwrought to seek comfort, too afraid that Ellison must despise him.

"Shh, it's all right," Jim soothed, his grip insistent and strong until Blair caved and sank against him.

Sandburg shuddered as he beat back the urge to weep, but a single tear escaped to trickle down his stubbled cheek. Fiercely, he forced himself to take deep breaths and to calm down as he huddled in Ellison's strong, secure embrace. Dimly, he was aware of Jim murmuring to him, comforting sounds more than articulate sentences, but the kind, caring tone helped a lot. Swallowing convulsively, he shoved the cold lump of fear and profound sadness back down to his gut. "I'm sorry," he said again when he could trust his voice.

"Stop it," Jim ordered, though his voice remained gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all."

"But - "

"You're my best friend, Chief - the best friend I've ever had," Ellison continued. "No matter what happens, nothing is going to change that."

The sincere and heartfelt affirmation did more than the anger or despair to wreak havoc on Blair's defenses. Tears flooded his eyes and he trembled with relief and gratitude. "Oh, man," he choked, swiping at his eyes. "I just feel so lost, you know? Like I don't know who I am anymore."

"I know," Jim murmured as he stroked Sandburg's back. "But that will pass. The important thing is to remember that you're not alone and you're not lost. It's just hard right now."

Blair nodded as he pulled himself back together. "Well," he observed shakily, "so much for my calm acceptance of the situation. I guess I don't do 'stoic' very well, huh?"

Jim chuckled as he helped Blair sit back and then stand. "No, Chief, 'stoic' isn't your strong suit. But, you know, I think that's a good thing. Hey, you're the one who is always telling me that it's best to get things out and talk about them or they just fester."

"Oh, now you think talking is good? Thanks a heap for throwing my words back at me at this so opportune moment," Sandburg groused as he sniffed and wiped his eyes. But he gave Jim a crooked smile. "God, I hate it when I'm right."

"So... you want to talk about it?" Ellison offered.

"Which 'it'?" Blair retorted, lifting his hand as he shrugged and shook his head ruefully.

"Any or every 'it'," Jim replied staunchly as he turned to start the coffee.

Sandburg felt his way around the counter and over to the table, where he sank into a chair. "I don't know. I guess there isn't a whole lot more to say," he said softly. His head bowed, he rambled on wearily, "I feel like I took the whole world and everything in it for granted and didn't appreciate it all enough, and I don't want to think about maybe forgetting what things... people... look like. And it _hurts_ to not be able to read. I really hate the darkness, and I'm so scared I won't ever see again. But I've got to get past that. I have to. And, God, forgetting a whole year of my life? I fell in love, met an archangel, died and got resurrected, nearly destroyed our friendship at least twice and I can't remember any of it. How is that possible? It's like... like being blind inside as well as outside - there's this great, gaping, black hole that I know is there, but I can't penetrate it. And all last night, I just kept thinking about what you read in my journal and I felt so absolutely sick about it - and afraid - that you must be repelled and repulsed and never want to be near me again in case my memory does come back and I ambush you one day to try to jump your bones. Shit, it's just all such a mess."

Jim had set out the cereal, bowls, spoons and milk while Blair talked, and then poured them two cups of coffee before returning to join his friend at the table. When Sandburg's voice died away and he slumped over the table, his face half covered by his right hand, Jim shook his head as he reached over to grip Blair's shoulder.

"Listen up, Chief," he compelled. "I know some of what you're feeling, about the blindness part, anyway; I know how tough it is. But we have to hope it won't be forever and, if it is, I'll be sorrier than I can say, but we'll work it out together. And I can imagine some of what it must be like to not be able to access your memories. For a long time, I couldn't remember a lot of what happened in Peru clearly, and it still bugs me that I can't recall the knowledge and insight I felt in the pool in that damned temple. But, again, most if not all of your memories will likely come back - and if they don't, we'll be too busy making new ones for it to matter for long." He paused and swallowed, still pretty shook himself by what he'd read in the journal; still not sure what to think about it. Sighing, he added, "As for yesterday, well, what can I say? I was as shocked as you were. But we don't even know if that feeling wore off, like you wrote that it might. That spirit merging was pretty heavy stuff. Whatever; it doesn't change the fact that you're my best friend and partner, okay?"

Blair swallowed and nodded, lifting his head to turn his face toward Jim as he raked his hair back off his face. He was pale and wan and looked exhausted. "So long as we're good, Jim. I couldn't stand it if I screwed things up between us," he said softly.

"We're good," Ellison assured him firmly. Serving out the cereal and milk, he pushed a bowl and spoon toward Sandburg. "Eat - you'll feel better."

Blair snorted, but his lips twisted into a wry grin. "You sound like a Jewish mother."

"Maybe Naomi is rubbing off on me," Jim teased.

"God forbid," Blair laughed at the thought. He couldn't imagine any two people more dissimilar than his friend and his mother. "I love her dearly, Jim, but one Naomi is enough, you know?"

Ellison chuckled as he dug into his own breakfast.

Once they'd finished, Jim carried the bowls to the sink. "Why don't you do the dishes?" Jim suggested, mindful that Blair needed to feel he could contribute and not be utterly helpless or useless. "I'm going to shower and get dressed."

"Okay," Sandburg agreed as he felt his way around the center island. "Just leave some of the hot water for me."

 

* * *

 

Later, after Blair had finished showering and washing his hair, wincing a little at the sting of soap on the still healing wound on the back of his head, he dried off and automatically moved to the sink to shave - and then realized he faced another challenge. Carefully, he searched for the shaving cream in the cabinet and lathered his face as best he could. Then, taking a breath, he picked up the razor, but it was hard to know if he was missing any spots; tricky, as well, to not inadvertently slice off part of his sideburns. Sighing, he opened the door and called, "Jim? Would you check me out to see if I'm fit to be seen in polite company?"

Ellison ambled to the doorway and couldn't help a soft laugh at the sight of flecks of shaving cream in Blair's hair and on the tip of his nose.

"What?" Blair wailed softly. "Did I make a mess of things?"

"No, Chief," Jim replied with a smile. "You just missed a couple of spots. Here, I'll help you." Moving into the small room, Jim took the proffered razor and finished the job and then grabbed a washcloth to gently wipe off the excess lather. Blair blinked when Ellison brushed his nose lightly.

"Oh, man, I probably look like a clown," he sighed.

"Nah, no more than usual," Jim quipped back. "C'mon, get dressed. It looks like a reasonable day out and I thought we could go for a walk. You've been cooped up indoors for too long."

Blair made his way to his room and did his best with his sense of touch to pick out layers that wouldn't clash too badly and decided he didn't really care if his socks matched. As he made his way out of his room, he called out, "Maybe you could help me organize my closet and dresser drawers later."

"Sure thing, Junior," Jim agreed as he helped Blair into his jacket. "You want to take your cane or my arm?"

"Uh, if you don't mind me holding onto you for dear life, I think your arm might be easier," Sandburg replied.

When Jim lifted Blair's hand to his elbow, Blair smiled gratefully.

 

* * *

 

Blair hesitated a moment at the door to the street, nervous about going out for a leisurely stroll. Aside from the trip home from the hospital, it was his first time out in public since he'd lost his sight. But he took a deep breath and lifted his chin. He might be blind, but there was no reason to slouch around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

They headed off along the sidewalk toward the park, both enjoying the balmy weather and the sun, which was warm enough to take the edge off the cool breeze from the harbor. For a while, they walked in companionable silence; Blair took the opportunity to listen to the world around him, to get clues about how many other people were on the street and to recall the various shops along the way. Jim warned him when they came to curbs and deftly stayed just a half-step ahead, sheltering Sandburg with his larger body so that Blair didn't inadvertently bang into people passing by.

"So, do you think the others at MCU will be okay with me still being around?" Blair wondered. "I mean, it was strange enough to have a civilian observer hanging around without having to make special allowances for the fact I can't see."

"Are you kidding?" Jim replied easily. "They weren't all that happy about not coming to see you in the hospital, and I guess I should have asked you, but I thought you needed a bit of time to adjust to what's happening. They can't _wait_ to see you."

"You're sure?" Sandburg pressed.

Ellison paused to turn to look down at Blair and shook his head at the anxious look on his friend's face. "I'm sure," he replied warmly. "You're part of the team, Chief. Look, you can't see, fine. But that doesn't affect your mind. You'll still make the kinds of connections and leaps of intuition that we sometimes miss because you think differently; you don't make the same assumptions and you have different approaches to analyzing information. Plus, you still have your instincts about people. It's going to be okay."

Sandburg's animated expression revealed how grateful he was for the reassurance as he nodded slightly. Glad to have assuaged Blair's concern, Jim turned to continue their ramble to the park. When they got there and found a bench, Blair asked him to describe what was happening around them and then listened avidly, his head tilting every once in a while to tune into the sounds of the activity that Jim talked about. Kids playing on the slide and monkey bars. Boys engaged in a pick-up game of ball. Mothers pushing strollers. And he began to smile as he pictured it all in his mind. Unconsciously, he relaxed and he was a lot less tense as they rose to return home.

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Simon dropped in for a visit and to bring them up to date with the arrangements for Blair's return to the police department, this time as a paid civilian consultant.

"To be perfectly honest, I have a lot of reservations about you doing this, Sandburg, given your current circumstances," Banks rumbled, his lips thin. "The Commissioner and the Chief think we're _all_ a little nuts." Cutting a meaningful look at Jim, he added, "There wouldn't have been a chance in hell if I hadn't been able to tell them about Jim's senses and his need for your specialized support."

Blair shrugged - what could he say? So far, he was still afraid to venture out of the loft on his own, and the very thought of clinging to Jim's belt and racing along in his shadow while they chased down bad guys left him feeling slightly hysterical. But they didn't have a lot of choice, not if Jim was going to be able to do his job; a necessary, even essential job protecting the people of Cascade.

For his part, Jim also remained silent, though he gave Simon a chagrined glance of understanding. Blair was cleared to work with him and that was what was important. It went without saying that he'd do everything in his power to keep the kid safe.

"What about the media, Simon?" Blair ventured into the silence. "They're bound to wonder why the PD would hire me, especially after the feeding frenzy Jim told me happened only last month."

"The Chief will take care of that next week," Banks replied. "Don't worry about it." Grinning a little, he added, "But, um, you are going to have to get used to calling me Captain now that you're actually an _official_ member of the team."

"Hey, now that you're _actually_ going to pay me," Blair teased back, "I'll call you boss, fearless leader, Captain or whatever pleases you, Simon."

The men laughed, easy in their friendship, however much they might all harbor misgivings about the insanity of allowing a blind man to partner with a guy who chased dangerous felons for a living. They'd work it all out - they had to. There wasn't a choice, given Jim's senses and his need for Blair's help as his Guide.

 

* * *

 

Despite the assurances of Simon and Jim, Blair couldn't help feeling uncertain when he and Ellison walked into the MCU two days later. After having worked so hard to be accepted for so many years, it was unnerving to know he was going to have to prove himself all over again, in much more trying circumstances.

But they'd scarcely cleared the door when Henri shouted jubilantly, "Hey, Hairboy, you've still got your curls! _All right!_ I was afraid they might've cut 'em all off. Without the hair, it just wouldn't be you, short stuff!" And then he was there, enthusiastically slapping Sandburg on the back, while Rafe joined them and welcomed them both back from sick leave.

"More than enough work to go around," he told them. "We missed you both. Blair, whatever you need, just ask."

"H, Rafe, it's good to be back, thanks," Sandburg replied with a genuine smile of delight at the enthusiastic welcome. He could feel his nervousness, at least here in MCU, subsiding.

Joel and Simon came out of the inner office and called their greetings, the older man crossing the floor to give Blair a hug. "Hey, son," Taggart said warmly, "it's so good to have you back. If I can help with _anything_ , anything at all, you let me know. I'm so sorry my idea ended up so badly."

"Hey, man, accidents happen. Don't worry, everything works out the way it should," Blair replied firmly as he returned the hug in equal measure. Sandburg genuinely loved the older man, and knew Joel cared deeply for him in return. He would _never_ want Joel, who had always been a good and supportive friend, to ever feel badly for what had happened, and he sure didn't deserve to feel any guilt.

"And this is Megan," Jim said from somewhere off to the side.

"Ah, Sandy, I'm so sorry you don't remember me," she said sadly, but her tone brightened as she continued, "We'll have to fix that right away. Maybe do some catching up over lunch?" After a beat, she added diffidently, "I'd _really_ like to give you a hug, too, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'd like that," Blair replied with a smile, liking the sound of her voice and easy acceptance that she'd been forgotten along with so much else; more, that she was eager to remedy the situation as best she could. The warmth of her embrace gave him some idea not only of how very tall she was, but that they'd been good friends, and that was oddly comforting.

"All right, people," Simon directed loudly. "They both know we're glad to have them back. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

 

* * *

 

Their desk-duty assignment for the first week was both a relief and a trial. They needed time to get back into harness and, so long as they stayed in the office, the media didn't immediately realize that Sandburg was now working officially with the department, despite his press conference a month before. The first day, Sandburg forced himself to do the rounds to learn his way around in the dark. Jim was willing to go with him, but he shook out his cane and said it was something he had to do on his own; so off he went, unaware of the sorrowful way his colleagues watched as he headed down to the evidence lockup, on to records, then to administration to get the paperwork on his appointment completed. It was hard, but he found out how many people in the building were sincerely glad to have him back and ready to help him adjust in any way that they could. Once more, he found himself reflecting on the strange blessings the blindness brought - he was very touched by the affection and care others showed him, and he'd never have realized how much they valued him, and wanted him there, if he hadn't needed their help to find his way around.

On Tuesday morning, Simon called them all into the conference room to watch a broadcast of the Chief making a formal announcement to the press. Though the others knew what to expect, both Jim and Blair were taken by surprise to hear the Chief of Police proudly announce to the gathered assembly of media representatives that the Cascade Police Department had joined other major US cities in appointing a forensic anthropologist to their ranks. He went on to explain that they were very fortunate that Blair Sandburg had agreed to the appointment, despite having been recently seriously injured in an accident in the mountains that had left him with a, hopefully, temporary disability. When the media erupted at the name, the senior cop told them in no uncertain terms that, a month ago, Mr. Sandburg had been acting in the interests of the department to enable officers to get on with their job in stopping the assassin, Karl Zeller. He then lectured firmly that the entire episode about the so-called 'Sentinel paper' had been a draft document about the observational skills of police officers that Mr. Sandburg had been working on, but had _never_ released for review or publication. The whole debacle, according to the chief, was a deliberate misconstruing and misinterpretation by an unscrupulous publisher and Rainier University, aided and abetted by the media themselves. He stressed again that Mr. Sandburg had never submitted the paper for review, and was merely a victim of unfortunate circumstance, and then he had copies of Blair's bio distributed as he returned to the reasons why having such a specialist on staff made a lot of sense. And that was that.

"Wow," Blair murmured when it was over. "Good storyline. Succinct and to the point."

"Well, we figured we needed to get the heat off you, Sandburg," Simon rumbled. "And everything he said was true, if not the _whole_ truth."

"Very... sneaky, Simon," Sandburg chided, but then grinned brightly. "I like that. Might even help sort things out at Rainier. Thanks."

By Wednesday, Jim was restless and resentful about being chained to nothing but paperwork when he'd rather be out in the field. Blair was finding it a nightmare not to be able to read, but found the original tapings of interrogations useful for acquiring information on cases. And everyone was patient with him, readily taking the time to brief him thoroughly before seeking his opinion or insights.

By Thursday, the strangeness of it all had worn off a little and he was a lot more comfortable.

By Friday morning, they were both itching for something more substantive to do.

 

* * *

 

"Ellison, Sandburg! My office!" Simon called out just before noon that Friday morning.

"What's up?" Blair mumbled as he followed Jim across the floor.

"No clue," Ellison replied with a shrug, having long made it conscious practice not to listen in on his superior's private conversations. "But Captain Ellersby, from Vice, is in there with him."

"Vice?" Sandburg echoed, his brows lifting in speculation. Their past dealings with that department hadn't been fun, but Ellersby was part of the cleanup since then, and was reputed to be a good man.

Once they were settled around the table in Banks' office, Simon began, "Jim, Blair, I think you both know Captain Ron Ellersby." When they nodded, he went on, "Well, he's asked for your assistance on a case. Ron, why don't you fill them in?"

"Thanks, Simon," Ellersby replied, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. He was a middle-aged, balding man of average height, but very thin and wiry. His dyspeptic look had been helpful in years past when he'd worked undercover as a junkie. "As Simon has said, I need _your_ help." He flicked a look at Banks and then elaborated, "I understand that you have, uh, special skills that might prove useful in this situation. If you'll bear with me, I'll give you the background and then describe what I have in mind, okay?

"Sounds good," Jim said easily, absorbing the careful reference to his senses without batting an eye and keeping his expression noncommittal.

Blair leaned forward, his head tilted unconsciously as he listened intently.

"You may have heard about an exclusive retreat called Half Moon Bay Inn, just inside the city limits on the coast. It's the kind of place where people who really want to ensure discretion go with their lovers. Anyway, we've been watching it for a while because there have been rumors of rather unusual services being provided - like minors being used for 'entertainment' purposes. We also wonder about the presence of mood and sexual experience-enhancing drugs." His lip curled in disgust and frustration briefly before he continued. "But we've never been able to get inside. Anyway, we've just received a confidential complaint from one of the very high profile men who stayed there recently that puts a new twist on the operation and might give us an entry. Apparently, the rooms are bugged and have hidden cameras that tape the indiscretions, and the unfortunate customer is then blackmailed. Given the roster of high-profile men we've seen going in and out for illicit getaways, it must be a pretty lucrative sideline."

Jim's eyes narrowed as he studied Ellersby. "I've heard this is a retreat for gay men. What do you want from us, sir?" he asked repressively.

"I'm getting to that," the Vice captain rejoined. He chewed on his lip for a moment, very aware of Ellison's resistant body language; no surprise, Ellison was evidently way ahead of him and had some idea of what was coming. "We need to get some people inside, but we can't risk the usual undercover assignment. The brothers who own this operation are good and can afford to be up to date on the cops in my shop. So, I was thinking that the two of you could go in as clients, ostensibly seeking a weekend away to relax and regroup after all that's happened to you recently. It could give us two potential takedown options - you might pick up evidence or at least some indication of incriminating activities and, well, maybe you'd be so convincing that they'd try to blackmail you."

"As a gay couple, you mean," Jim clarified, not looking happy. Blair was frowning in concentration beside him; from the way he'd straightened stiffly, Sandburg had also picked up on his negative reaction.

"Yeah," Ellersby confirmed. "Look, Jim, you've worked Vice, and you've had to play these kinds of undercover roles before - "

"That was a little different," Ellison grated with a glance at Blair. "There's been enough speculation over the past four years without us adding fuel to the fire."

Before Ellersby could respond, Sandburg cut in. "I think that's likely the point, Jim." Turning his face toward the captain from Vice, he continued, "What better cover, in some ways, could we have? We don't have to pretend we don't work for the PD - in fact, the story is that we'd be there to get away from the reality of our jobs and would _really_ want to be assured of discretion. Makes you a perfect blackmail target, Jim, because you're a cop and I'm your new official partner, something that wouldn't be tolerated if we were known to be a couple. If they checked us out, they'd quickly learn about the rumors.... "

When he heard Jim shuffle uncomfortably beside him, he reached out to grip Ellison's arm, adding as an aside, "I know you've probably heard a lot more of the crap than I have, but it was a given that people would wonder and talk, what with my long hair and earrings, and you agreeing to have a hippie-wannabe trailing along behind you. Not to mention the fact that we share an apartment. Right? Well, now, maybe all that shit could work for us. Hey, anyone who knows us knows that's not what's going on. You've been married and even dated the D.A., for Pete's sake! And, well, I've got quite a reputation with the ladies." When Banks snorted in amusement, Sandburg gave him a mock glare, mumbling, "You're just jealous," before returning to persuading his partner to give the assignment fair consideration. "But anyone checking could figure we've been so publicly involved with women to give ourselves cover. It could work."

When Jim grunted, Blair went on, "Besides, who would suspect you to be on an undercover assignment when you've got a blind man with a broken arm trailing along behind you? Sure, I'm your partner, but who's going to believe that I'd be your backup in something like that? And it figures that, being blind, I'd be expected to feel more comfortable in a private, exclusive resort than in a more active public domain. It's a pretty brilliant idea, actually."

Ellersby looked pleased, but Jim grimaced. "How dangerous is this likely to be?" the detective asked. "If we're going to be inside without ready backup, I don't want the risks to be too high." Again he looked at Blair and the two captains didn't need anything more to understand his reservations. If things went bad in a hurry, Sandburg could be very vulnerable, given his disability.

"Well," Ellersby scratched his cheek, "I don't think the risks of physical harm are great. This doesn't seem to be a strong-arm operation. But I have to tell you that a few of their former 'guests' have disappeared over the past year, anywhere from a week to a month after their sojourn at Half Moon Bay. No bodies were ever found, though, nor any evidence of foul play, and we've generally assumed the men chose to disappear rather than pay up or risk exposure."

Ellison blew out a breath and nodded. "Okay, sounds fairly safe if they don't want trouble on their turf." But then he frowned as he turned to Sandburg. "You sure you can carry this off, Chief? Not just the fact you can't see. I mean the fact that we'll have to appear to be lovers." Chewing his lip, he added, "And the idea of our room being bugged bothers me. Not sure how we fake the kind of action that would lead to a blackmail attempt."

Blair snickered as he sat back in his chair. "Well, I guess we'll have to do some lip-locking but, hey, you've done that a couple of times already giving me artificial respiration. How tough could it be to do it when I'm conscious and can cooperate? It's just role-playing. And, uh, with the room... well, how about this? We use what we've got. I'm your recently blinded lover and unsure of whether it's fair to you to continue our relationship, so you've taken me out there to, um, persuade me that we have a future together, regardless. In the room, to express your sensitivity to my discomfort about being blind, you could stress the point of making it an 'even playing field' by turning out all the lights and making it as dark as possible. Then we just need to roll around under the covers and make interesting noises - the hard part will be trying not to fall on the floor laughing our heads off because it'll be so hysterically funny."

His good humor was infectious and the rest chuckled at the image he was creating in their minds. Looking at him, Simon rumbled with no little respect, "You're really something else, Sandburg. You've got real guts."

Blair shrugged and sighed as he shook his head. "No, not really," he demurred. "But I know if Jim's there, I'll be safe enough. It's just that if, well, if I can make this blindness count for something like stopping people who are abusing kids, then maybe it'll seem worth the hassle, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Banks replied quietly. "So, Jim, what do you think? Ready to play kissy-face with your partner?"

Blair snorted as Jim glared at his boss. "Don't you start," Ellison warned with feigned outrage. But then he nodded. "Yeah, it sounds doable. When do we go in?"

"Tonight, if you can get a room," Ellersby replied. "We're anxious to move on these guys. A certain married candidate for state senator wants the operation stopped before he has to drop out of the public view."

"Ewww," Blair articulated with a scrunched up face. "He's cheating on his wife with another guy and he wants the police to help solve his problems? That's a little tacky."

"Tacky is one word for it," Ellersby sighed. Nobody liked political pressure to get things done, however much it was a reality of life.

"Tonight can work. Give me the number and I'll call to see if they have a room," Jim said, and took the information from Ellersby. Jim understood as well as Ellersby did that, regrettably, the high profile individuals who frequented the inn would probably never agree to testify in court. The only way of taking down the high-end illicit operation was to have police officers who could gather the evidence and then deliver it to a judge and jury.

"Maybe you two should go home and, uh, rehearse a little to make sure you're comfortable in your roles," Simon said, and then laughed, vastly amused.

Jim growled, but Sandburg hooted as he elbowed his best friend. "Bet you never thought you'd ever hear our boss suggesting you take me home to neck!"

Ellison couldn't resist laughing at that and he turned to ruffle Blair's hair.

"Not the hair, man!" Blair huffed in mock outrage as he raked it back down into place with his right hand. Grinning like an imp, he teased, "Kiss me silly, if you must, but my hair is sacred."

 

* * *

 

Jim made the booking, and then they headed out to get ready for their assignment. But, however much Blair had joked about it in front of the other men, deep down he was more than a little worried. Not about the risks, such as they might be, but about whether Jim was really okay with it. Sandburg rather suspected he was slightly more at ease with the idea of same gender relationships than his partner was and, more, he was worried about such an assignment arising so soon after the unfortunate revelation in his journal.

"You sure you're okay with this, Jim?" he asked, after getting into the truck and buckling up. "I mean, you know I don't expect anything - it's just role-playing."

Ellison glanced at his partner as he drove out of the basement garage. "You're thinking about your journal, right?"

"Yeah," Sandburg admitted, his shoulders hunched as he studiously stared sightlessly out the side window.

"Chief," Jim sighed. "I accept that that was as much a shock to you as it was to me, and that you really don't remember writing it or feeling it. This is just a job. No harder for me than for you, okay?"

Nodding, Blair turned back to his best friend. "Good. Just so we're clear."

"We're clear, Junior. Relax," Jim affirmed.

 

* * *

 

As blase as they'd been about how they'd need to act at Half Moon Bay, both men were more than a little uncomfortable with actually facing the mechanics of the role. So they started with the simple stuff - going through their wardrobes to pick out clothing appropriate to lovers in an exclusive weekend hideaway. Jim's packing was easier. He had good quality clothing, a lot of it silk in deference to his skin's sensitivity, and well-tailored suits that he'd chosen with the unconscious taste of his upbringing in high society. He'd have no trouble looking elegant, whether dressed up for dinner, or in casual sweaters and slacks. He slipped in his earring, from his old days in Vice, and he was ready to go.

Blair's closet presented more of a challenge. Student grunge wasn't the look they were going for. "Hmm," Jim grunted as he rifled through the clothing as Blair called out suggestions, such as his blue laced shirt that matched his eyes, and his white shirt and blue vest. "I think we'll have to deck you up as the sweet young bit of ass that has turned this old guy's head."

"How charming," Sandburg snorted. "What've you pulled out?"

"Well, there's this silky blue shirt you mentioned; it looks pretty good. With the laces mostly undone to show your manly chest full of hair, it could be construed as sexy, I guess," Jim replied sardonically. "And I don't remember ever seeing this 'fuck me' black net thing that was hanging in the very back. You chose it to show off the nipple ring?"

Blair blushed. "Hey, I was young and desperate, man. I thought advertising the assets couldn't hurt."

"Helps if you have assets to advertise, I guess," Ellison teased. "It'll do nicely for the game we're playing and make quite a statement at dinner tomorrow night. And you've got enough pairs of good pants for tonight and Sunday. I think the black 'fuck me' number needs really tightass black jeans - make you look dangerous and desirable all at the same time."

Ignoring Blair's cocked brow, he continued, "So, you could wear the white shirt, vest and jeans out there, looking casual and very young; the more subtle but sexy blue shirt tonight; and the Cascade PD pullover you stole from me for going for walks on the beach, 'cause the wind off the water will likely be cool. It would also make the point that we're not consciously trying to hide what we do for a living. The black net shirt for tomorrow night, while I deck out in a classic suit - it'll give all kinds of messages about your conflicted feelings - half 'damn you, Ellison' and half 'I dare you'. And maybe this fire engine red V-necked pullover for checking out on Sunday - a color for celebrating passion."

"The black jeans are in the back of the closet," Blair offered helpfully as he snickered. "You're making me look like your boy-toy, aren't you?"

"All part of the act, Chief," Jim drawled.

After helping Blair with the plastic sleeve to protect his cast, Jim packed up their gear in a single suitcase while Blair showered and spent a while blowing his mane into soft curls that framed his face. Then he pulled on the white shirt, grateful that the sleeves were wide enough to accommodate his cast, the vest that resonated with the blue of his eyes and a clean pair of jeans. He then put on his own earrings, not remembering that he'd stopped wearing them after he'd drowned in the fountain. "What are you wearing?" he asked as he came out of his room.

"A blue shirt with my camel cashmere pullover and beige pants," Jim replied helpfully. "And my earring."

"Ohhh, daring!" Blair grinned. "How much time do we have before we head out there?"

"Well, I told them we'd arrive before dinner, but that still gives us an hour," Ellison replied. When Blair nodded and looked sightlessly around the loft, obviously nervous, Jim asked, "You want to do a little practicing?"

"I guess we should," Sandburg agreed, but he made no move to come closer.

So Jim went to him. "They're going to be watching us closely, Chief, so we'll have to be convincing," he said seriously. "Since you can't see me, they'll expect you to use your hands a lot. Touching my face, and my body in intimate ways. And they'll expect to see me touching you, kissing you. We have to make them believe we're hungry for one another."

"Uh-huh," Blair grunted, but he lifted his chin and raised his right hand to Jim's face. Delicately, he traced his fingers along Jim's cheek and jaw, lingering over his lips before drifting down his throat to rest just over his heart. "Like that?"

"Yep," Ellison confirmed, his throat a bit dry as he stared into Blair's wide eyes and felt the intimacy of the caress. He reached to stroke Blair's cheek and then pushed his fingers through his partner's hair as he leaned down. "Don't flinch when I kiss you," he directed, all business.

Blair swallowed and looked a little scared, but he kept his face tilted up, his lips slightly parted as Jim lightly brushed his mouth with his own.

"Uh, I think we'll have to be more convincing than that," Sandburg ventured, lifting his hand to clasp the nape of Ellison's neck and pulling his head back down. "Show me what you can do, old man," he dared.

Jim chuckled deep in his throat, relieved that Blair was able to make it a joke while meeting him more than half way on what they had to do. Sandburg was right. They had to be a lot more passionate than a butterfly kiss to be convincing. He covered Blair's mouth with his own, and pulled the younger man against his body - and, when Sandburg's lips parted, he decided to rise to the dare and showed Blair what he could do.

They all too quickly discovered that when the eyes are closed, another's mouth and tongue has no gender - and both were experienced, more than competent lovers. The kiss deepened as Blair pressed himself against Jim's strong body, and the younger man moaned low in his throat before they broke apart, both suddenly embarrassed.

Blair was flushed and he stammered, "Uh, well, I thought that was convincing."

"Not bad for an old guy, eh, Chief?" Jim retorted, also nonplussed. He hadn't expected that kissing another man would be so... pleasurable. But Blair tasted surprisingly good - verrryy good, as a matter of fact. "Ready to try something more?"

"More?" Sandburg squeaked, but rallied. "Sure. Uh, what, exactly?"

"Just relax and go with it," Ellison advised, as he bent to lick and softly blow into Blair's ear before shifting to nuzzle at the sensitive skin below the ear behind his jaw. It was odd to feel the slight bristles against his face, but not offensive.

Swallowing, Sandburg murmured, "That, ah, feels pretty good. Guess you know what you're doing, huh?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Jim replied as he pulled back. "I'm no virgin, Chief, even if I haven't spent quality time with another man before."

Suddenly Sandburg grinned, radiant with good-humored mischief. "You know, I think this might actually be fun. I get to play the shy and unsure blind guy you're falling all over yourself to woo back into a solid relationship. Bring it on, man! I can do this!"

"Is that right?" Jim challenged as he gripped Blair's shoulder, his tone more serious than perhaps Sandburg had intended. "Well, then, let's get the scenario straight." When Blair snickered, Jim batted his head fondly. "Listen up, Junior. I'm not 'wooing' a blind guy. I'm 'wooing' a truly beautiful man who has had a sudden attack of insecurity because of an unfortunate accident. I'm 'wooing' a man I love, and who I _know_ loves me."

Sandburg's face sobered into painful earnestness and he trembled a little. "I do love you," he said steadily. "You're the most important person in my life."

"I know that, Chief," Jim replied, his voice gruff with affection. "I feel the same way about you." Then, ruffling Blair's hair to make the younger man laugh, he added teasingly, "I just never imagined getting you into the sack before. You, uh, do know we'll be sharing a bed and we'll have to be naked. Some, um, upper body making out will be required for the benefit of the cameras."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'd figured that part out on my own, big guy. But it'll be dark, right?"

"Yeah, Sandburg - it'll be dark," Jim agreed, sadness flickering in his eyes as he studied his staunch friend, his heart aching at Blair's unconscious bravery. "Okay, let's go and act our little hearts out."

They pulled on their leather jackets and left on their undercover assignment.

 

* * *

 

On the way out to the exclusive lodge by the sea, they talked about how they'd play out their supposed 'relationship' over the course of the weekend. It was like crafting a script to advance a storyline. For the first evening, they figured Blair would be playing the uncertain lover, hesitant to continue a relationship he now felt was unfair to Jim. Some light making out that night in their bed would suffice before Sandburg pushed Ellison away. The next day, they'd take a romantic walk along the shore, holding hands, kissing a little for the benefit of anyone watching, and have a candlelight dinner and maybe do some slow dancing in the lodge's ballroom, where the brochure advertised a live band on weekend nights. Saturday night, they'd make their acting in bed a little more intense for the cameras. Sunday would be a loving brunch followed by another walk and then checkout. If things went as hoped, they'd be given a video 'souvenir' of their weekend and be told that someone from the lodge would be in contact with them in the near future; all very subtle and elegant - but still blackmail. After the follow-up 'contact,' they'd work with the cops from Vice to round up the bad guys and lock 'em up. Piece of cake.

The drive wound up through an old forest, no doubt designed to give the impression of going to a location that was cut off from the rest of the world - an unseen place of mystery. The Half Moon Bay Inn was a beautiful Wedgwood - blue Victorian mansion nestled amongst the pines on a high bluff overlooking a crescent-shaped, white sandy beach dotted with boulders, and the Pacific Ocean. Lightly scented, flowering shrubs surrounded the base of the building on either side of the broad wooden steps that led to the verandah and into the lodge. Jim described the place without having to be asked, something that Sandburg appreciated.

Jim took their bag in one hand; Blair latched onto his left arm, and then they made their way over the circular graveled drive from the parking lot to the entrance. "Six steps, Chief," Jim murmured.

Inside, the entrance was lofty with a staircase that climbed up one side to a balcony across the second floor. The stairs and walls were paneled in dark pine, the floor also of glossy hardwood, covered decoratively with richly-colored scattered carpets under elegant furniture. A small, tasteful marble fountain of Cupid to one side added the restful murmur of flowing water.

"Welcome to the Half Moon Bay Inn," an impeccably groomed young man behind the registration desk called warmly.

They smiled, Blair a bit tentatively, and Jim checked them in.

"Dinner is at eight, in the conservatory; after dinner, drinks and dancing begin at nine in the ballroom," the clerk informed them as he handed them a key. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay."

On their way up the stairs, Blair couldn't help snickering as he softly chanted, "It was done with a candlestick in the ballroom by Mr. Green."

"You think so?" Jim teased back as he led the way along the upper balcony. "I always fancied Miss Scarlet as the murderer."

Their room was opulently and elegantly furnished. The central attraction was the massive bed covered by a down-filled duvet designed as an old-fashioned quilt in shades of blue. There was a well - crafted wood desk, a beautiful cabinet that concealed the television and bar, a chaise-longue covered with navy silk brocade, and a wide leather armchair with matching ottoman. The room gave out onto a small private balcony that overlooked the beach and the ocean, and the adjoining bathroom had a large, marble, open shower enclosed on three sides, and a truly decadent whirlpool bath, large enough for two, at least.

Jim described everything as Blair wandered around, feeling the textures and shapes. "It's certainly designed for comfort and relaxation," Sandburg observed neutrally.

"That's not all it's designed for, Chief," Jim replied with a low sensual tone, getting right into their role. He'd spotted the bugs that were well-hidden in the furniture and ceiling, but were no match for his unique ability to hear the low buzz they emitted. His casual glance around the room as he'd described it all to Blair revealed not one but three cameras - one in the armoire that focused on the bed; one in the overhead light fixture that caught the chaise-longue and leather chair in its angle and the third in the bathroom, angled toward the tub and large, open shower enclosure.

Falling into his role, Blair stiffened and he shook his head as he half-turned his wan face toward Ellison. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea, Jim. I know you want it to keep working between us, but things have changed. You can't pretend they haven't."

Ellison crossed the room to stand behind Blair and wrap his arms around him as he bent to rest his chin on the smaller man's shoulder. "The only thing that's changed is that you can't see. I know that's a huge thing for you - I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is. But I love you, and the man you are hasn't changed. You're still you."

Blair clasped Jim's wrist and leaned back into his embrace. "It's just not fair to you," he said sadly. "You deserve more than I can offer now - hell, Jim, you don't need someone hanging onto your arm for the rest of your life."

"You are more than I've ever deserved, Chief," Jim replied solemnly, no longer 'acting'. "And I can't think of anything more wonderful than to have you by my side for all the days of my life."

Blair couldn't help the smile that flickered on his lips. "You are such a romantic," he chided tenderly. "Who would ever guess?"

"Tell anyone and I'll cut all your hair off," Ellison growled with mock threat. Laughing, he stood back. "You want to go for a walk? I spotted a garden around the side."

"Sure, why not?" Sandburg concurred, as if anxious to leave the intimacy of the room. "And maybe the lounge will be open. We could have a beer before changing for dinner."

 

* * *

 

Out in the garden, they found a bench warmed by the sun and sat down to get a feel for the place. Blair shifted to lay his hand lightly on Jim's arm, to ground him, and whispered Sentinel-soft, "Filter out the sounds of the wind in the trees and the sea. Listen to the voices in the house and anywhere nearby. Once you've identified one and have a sense of the conversation, move on. See if you can hear the voices of any kids, okay?"

"Got it, Chief," Jim rumbled as he closed his eyes and tilted his head. He caught the sounds of another couple registering, and voices in the lounge that occupied the back corner of the house behind them. A man with a slight Spanish accent was saying, "We'll have to watch the cop closely, but they're just sitting out in the garden for now."

Not surprised to know they were arousing some suspicion, as that was partially the point, Jim moved on. A few times, his face screwed up in distaste as he caught the sounds of intimacy and felt uncomfortably like a voyeur. After only listening long enough to ensure no minors were involved, he shifted his attention elsewhere. Finally, he hit on something from the far side of the house. Another voice with a Spanish lilt was commiserating with a client, from the sounds of things, about how hard it was to get good quality amusement these days. He frowned as he listened more closely, and his jaw tightened as he heard the offer to make arrangements to bring in a young, virgin boy, but with the condition that it would take time, maybe a week, and would be expensive. After the client agreed to the terms and left, Jim made a mental note of the name the Spanish guy used, 'Bains'. He heard the distant tones of a cell phone being dialed, concentrated hard to memorize musical notes, and then the voice was again talking to someone called Marcus and placing the order for delivery by the end of the next week. He listened until the call ended, but got nothing more of value. Again, he let his sense of hearing drift until he'd covered the whole of the house and the surrounding area.

"Got it," he muttered again, a few minutes later. "No kids here right now, but one is being brought in for next weekend. I got a phone number, or I will have when I work out the tonal sequence, and a couple of names. I didn't get anything about drugs, but we'll see what we pick up over the rest of the weekend."

"Good," Blair sighed. "Not good about the kids, but maybe we can close down this particular hell-hole."

Jim looped an arm around Blair's shoulders. To distract his friend from the grim realities of illicit dens of iniquity, he suggested that Sandburg try to guess, by scent, the varieties of flowers surrounding them.

Blair grimaced, well knowing what Jim was doing, but nodded in acceptance that there was nothing more they could do at the moment. Wryly, he groused, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Making me take sensory tests?"

"Well, it has a certain appeal, Chief," Ellison agreed, humor rich in his voice.

They sat a while longer and then got up to wander around the extensive garden, Blair holding Ellison's arm. Noting that they were being watched from the windows of the lounge, Jim asked quietly, "I'd like to put my arm around your shoulders as we walk. Will that work for you? Would it feel too much like I'm pulling you along?"

Blair chewed his inner lip and his eyes narrowed as he thought about it. "We can try," he allowed, remembering how he'd liked the friendly, brotherly gesture when Jim had slung his arm around his shoulders in the past. "I can reach around your back and hook my hand in your belt to stay balanced."

Jim smiled and lifted his arm, drawing Blair close to his side. He bent to lightly kiss Blair's temple and, when he felt the warmth of Sandburg's hand in the small of his back, he led off again along the garden path toward the back of the lodge and the door that gave entrance to the lounge and conservatory. When they entered the lounge, the man who had been watching them straightened from the bar and crossed the elegantly carpeted floor to meet them. "Mr. Ellison?" he asked, his voice deep and mellow with a slight Spanish lilt. "I'm Paco Rodriguez. My brother, Ernesto, and I are your hosts here at the Half Moon Bay. It is my pleasure to welcome you and put myself at your service. If there is anything you wish or need that is not readily available, you have only to bring it to my attention and we'll do all we can to ensure your satisfaction and enjoyment."

Jim took the outstretched hand and shook, finding the grip of the tall, muscular man strong. He studied the deeply-tanned complexion, the glossy, short black hair and the dark chocolate eyes, wondering if he read a challenge in their depths, as he replied, "Thank you. This is - "

"The beautiful Blair Sandburg," Rodriguez interjected, his voice dropping to a low, seductive purr as he turned to study Blair with an air of wanton desire in his eyes. "You are indeed a very fortunate man, Mr. Ellison."

"That's all in your perspective," Sandburg cut in, annoyed at being talked about as if he were deaf as well as blind. "I happen to think that I'm the lucky one." Blair deliberately leaned into Jim, making sure the guy whose leer echoed in the sultry voice knew where his affections lay.

"Ah, to be sure," Paco recovered smoothly, unperturbed by the rejection. "Mr. Sandburg, if there is anything you need to make you more comfortable here, you have only to ask."

"Thanks," Sandburg replied, his tone a bit brittle. "What I'd really like right now is a beer. Draft if you have it."

"By all means. Make yourselves comfortable, perhaps by the fire, and I'll have it brought to you. Mr. Ellison, what would you like to drink?"

"The same is fine, thanks," Jim replied as he turned to lead Blair to a table. There were a few other couples in the lounge but the place oozed discretion and privacy, the chairs and loveseats arranged in small clusters separated by plants that nearly hid their occupants.

As he sat across from Sandburg, Jim found himself openly and consciously studying his best friend in a way he never had before. The desk clerk had gazed at Blair as if he'd been completely smitten by Sandburg, and Paco's interest was certainly plain enough. 'Beautiful,' Rodriguez had said and, objectively, Jim had to agree, though he'd resented the other man's candid appraisal of his partner. It was a subtle kind of rape when Blair couldn't see himself being looked at with lust and desire, and Jim had stiffened protectively in response. But now he was looking to see what others saw in Blair's eyes, always so wide, huge in his face and fringed with long lashes, smokier now with his blindness, his pupils large in their search for light. The kid was lightly flushed from the fresh, chill air outside and he'd been biting on his lip, making it swell a bit, wet and very lush. It was odd to gaze at Blair as an object of other men's lust, and Jim felt his mouth go dry with a sudden surge of tender protectiveness. Clearing his throat, he dragged his eyes from Sandburg's face to the fire. "You warm enough, Chief?" he asked, his voice a little husky.

"I'm fine," Blair growled softly, still annoyed. "That creep was undressing me with his eyes, wasn't he?" he grated and shivered a little in revulsion.

"'Fraid so, Sandburg," Jim acknowledged grimly. "Don't worry, I won't let him near you."

"My hero," Blair breathed and then grinned impishly, making Jim chuckle in return. When the muscular bartender, whose nametag read 'Jorge,' delivered their beers in tall, frozen flutes, Sandburg lifted his foam-topped schooner and held it toward Ellison in salute. Jim clicked their glasses, and they sat back to enjoy the fire and the comfortable friendship between them.

 

* * *

 

When they walked into the conservatory later, Blair firmly gripping Jim's left arm, any number of eyes turned to enjoy the view. Ellison looked ruggedly elegant in a perfectly cut gray suit, crisp shirt and tie, the incongruous earring in his ear catching the candlelight. On his arm, Sandburg looked absolutely scrumptious in the loose, clinging cerulean shirt, his cast hidden by the billowing sleeves that shimmered in the soft light and made his eyes look bluer than ever. His hair was a wild, burnished aura of curls and the half-laced shirt revealed his silkily furred chest. Once again, Jim was shaken by the blatantly lascivious looks that were directed at Blair, too distracted to note that he was the recipient of similar lustful glances in his own right.

Blair felt his partner stiffen and asked quietly, "Is something wrong?"

Jim looked down at his best friend, once again aware of him in a different way, seeing what the other men in the candlelit room saw, and his wonder was naked on his face. "No," he grated hoarsely. "There's nothing wrong. The guys in here are just honestly admiring someone who is truly beautiful."

Sandburg blinked and then blushed at his partner's tone. Clearing his throat, he nudged Jim with his shoulder as he suggested, "Maybe we should find our table."

"Good idea," Jim replied as he looked around and then led them to a booth that curved toward the bay windows overlooking the ocean. He wished Sandburg could see how the moonlight was reflecting on the waves that rushed to shore. Mindful of their charade, he slid in close beside Blair and bent to kiss his cheek before turning his attention to the menu. "Okay, here we go - this is the night's fare," he said and then whistled low. "Be glad you can't see the prices."

Blair gave him a sardonic look and shook his head. "'Way to romance me, Jim," he chided sarcastically.

Ellison gave him a fond look and then read out the selections, all of them sounding a little too fancy for his taste. Blair snickered softly at the creative ways that oysters were featured in a wide variety of dishes. A waiter appeared to ask if they wanted drinks, and Jim ordered a rare red from New Zealand. By the time their server had returned to uncork the bottle and pour their libation, they'd decided on what they wanted to eat. Dinner was well prepared and presented and was, Jim had to admit, delicious. When they were finished and Jim had signed the bill to their room, they wandered through the halls, drawn by the music toward the ballroom on the far side of the large, old Victorian lodge.

Once again, heads turned as they walked in, and Jim's jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed. He was getting used to the attention in an odd sort of way, but he was feeling increasingly protective of Sandburg. Lifting his arm around Blair's shoulder, he led his friend toward a shadowed table in the corner. It was a bit of a struggle shifting his hypersensitive awareness from his partner to try to detect the presence of any illicit drugs in the large chamber. He caught the aroma of cigars, no doubt clinging to the clothing of some of the other patrons, and lots of different varieties of alcohol, but no drugs. Maybe they only made an appearance in the private rooms above - and if so, they'd be hard to detect through a cursory sensory check. He shrugged, letting it go, not willing to risk their cover to probe further. He already had enough from the phone call he'd overheard earlier to bring this operation down. He returned the focus of his attention to Blair as they reached the table, again stiffening a little at the stares Sandburg was still receiving.

"Guys lusting after me again?" Sandburg guessed as he teased lightly at Jim's firm embrace.

"Uh-huh," Ellison grunted as he pulled out a chair for Blair and guided him to it.

The younger man snickered. "Why, anyone would think you were jealous," he quipped. "You know, Jim, they're probably really looking at you, and imagining the very manly muscles under that exceedingly flattering and very expensive suit."

Jim snorted as he sat down next to Blair and covered his partner's hand with his own. "Now who's jealous?" he growled playfully. Leaning over, he nuzzled Sandburg's neck. "You smell pretty good," he observed.

Blair laughed. "Well, I'm glad I don't stink," he drawled and then turned his face, knowing that Jim's was very close, and his lips parted invitingly. Ellison kissed him, soundly, well aware of their audience.

Pulling back a short while later, Sandburg smiled enticingly as he delicately caressed his partner's cheek. "Wanna dance?" he asked. "It's a slow song, so I should be able to follow you. Just don't step on my feet, okay, big guy?"

Jim chuckled as he stood and lightly pulled Blair's hand until the younger man stood as well. Once on the dance floor, Ellison wrapped his arms around Sandburg and drew him close, Blair's head resting on his chest, just under his chin. The music was a sensuous, evocative love song, mildly sentimental and they swayed to the beat of it; Blair hummed the tune softly under his breath as he hugged Jim's waist, and Ellison found the subtle sympathetic resonance of the vibration in his own throat and chest oddly affecting. When the beat changed to a more lively rhythm, they waltzed around the room, and Sandburg said wistfully, "I wish I could do the mamba like Pacino did in Scent of a Woman."

"Yeah, but he was cheating, Chief - he could see where he was going," Jim replied, amused, and then froze. It was the first time he'd teased Blair about his blindness and he was instantly sorry.

Blair felt it and shook his head. "It's okay," he whispered, as he tightened his grip around Jim. "I know I'm blind - you don't have to avoid mentioning it."

"I just - " Jim stammered. "I just don't think of you as blind, Chief. You see more than most people ever do, 'cause they don't know how to observe, how to listen. Most people just aren't as interested, don't care as much as you do about others."

Lifting his face to his friend, Sandburg smiled brilliantly. "You know, that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Thanks, Jim."

Ellison took advantage of the moment to lean down and kiss Blair deeply - not really realizing that he was no longer conscious of being watched or putting on a show for others. Sandburg moaned softly in the back of his throat and Jim felt the vibrations down to his toes. He pulled back, slightly breathless and seriously wondering what the hell he was doing.

Blair, unaware that they weren't still just playing roles, snuggled against his body. "Maybe we've put on enough of a public show," he whispered Sentinel soft. "Time to head upstairs for the more private viewing?"

"Uh, yeah," Jim agreed, his throat dry as he tenderly stroked his partner's cheek and suddenly felt very confused. He looped an arm around Blair's shoulder, as much to steady himself as to guide Sandburg out of the room... and was unduly sensitive to the touch of Blair's warm hand slipping under his jacket to loop under his belt.

 

* * *

 

Upstairs, aware of the cameras, they undressed one another with overt tenderness and care. Once again, Jim found himself getting lost in Blair's scent and feel, and his partner's touch and tongue sent tremors through his body to his heart. Before they were both completely naked, he asked hoarsely, "You want to take a bath?"

Blair, well into their script, pulled away and shook his head. "No, not tonight," he murmured as he turned away. "I'm sorry, Jim. I want to - you know I do. But I just don't think it's right anymore. I'm taking advantage of you."

"Ah, Chief," Jim sighed as he moved up close behind his friend and drew him into an embrace, Blair's back pressed against his bare chest. "Look, let's just take our time, okay? You've been through so much. I know you're worried about the blindness and I don't know how to convince you that it doesn't matter to me. I mean, I care that you're hurting, but it's you I love, blind or not. Tell you what - why don't I turn out all the lights? Then we'll both be 'blind' and we can feel the difference, if any, that it makes."

Blair turned his head so that his cheek was against Jim's shoulder as he pretended to ponder the idea. "Okay," he finally agreed. "I appreciate it that you're willing to try to experience the world the way I do now."

So Jim let him go and went around the room extinguishing the lights and drawing the heavy curtains against the moonlight. Returning to Blair, he took the smaller man into his arms and murmured, "Okay, it's as dark as I can make it in here."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair whispered as he reached up to clasp the nape of Ellison's neck and draw him down for a passionate kiss.

When they broke apart, Jim slipped his hands down Sandburg's body and deftly slid his partner's boxers down his sturdy legs. Then he took Blair's hand and led him to the bed, flipping back the covers before settling Sandburg on it. He shucked off his own shorts and climbed in beside his best friend, pulling the sheet back up to cover their hips before leaning over Blair. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," Blair replied before their lips met.

Jim's fingers tangled in Blair's curls as their tongues danced together. And then he was caressing Sandburg's arms, amazed at the satiny softness of his skin. He nuzzled Blair's ear and throat and then dropped lower to lick and suck at one hard nipple, gently pulling at the ring with his teeth.

Sandburg groaned and writhed at the contact, the rush of sensation going straight to his groin with results neither of them had anticipated. Blair froze and Jim could feel the heat of his blush. "Oh, God," Sandburg groaned. "It's okay," Jim murmured, stroking his face gently, very aware of Blair's racing heartbeat and short, sharp pants for breath.

"I don't know if I can do this," Blair gasped, mortified by his body's betrayal. "I mean... "

"I know what you mean," Jim replied, his voice warm with understanding. "You don't have to do anything. This weekend is about feeling good, not worried or... whatever. Listen, why don't we just... just sleep, okay?"

"Yeah, Jim, thanks," Blair murmured. "I'm sorry, man. I really am."

"Don't worry about it, kid," Jim reassured him. "Roll over and get comfortable." When Sandburg turned onto his side, Jim lay down close behind him, one arm around Sandburg, holding him close. "Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, Jim, fine," Blair sighed, feeling absolutely humiliated and deeply afraid he'd offended his friend by responding so physically to his touch.

It was only as they settled for sleep, each of them reviewing what had happened and what they'd said, that they realized they'd played out their script perfectly without thinking about it once.

 

* * *

 

The next morning after a late, leisurely breakfast, they headed out to walk along the beach. The wind was fresh and sharp, but the sun was warm, and the white-crested waves rushed to shore in their eternal dance upon the ocean's breast. Gulls dipped in the air and cried mournfully, some squawking harshly, appearing to scold others. In the distance, the mountains rose, carpeted with green in their lower elevations, austere and snowcapped against the milky blue sky. The two men held hands as they began their slow ramble, in no hurry to get back to where their every word could be overheard, their every action assessed, even recorded.

"Are we alone?" Blair asked after they'd been walking for about fifteen minutes.

Looking around, his eyes narrowing as he searched the shore and forest behind them, Jim replied, "So far as I can tell, yeah."

"Do you think anyone can hear us?" Sandburg asked then.

"I doubt it, Chief," Ellison replied. "They'd need directional mikes, and even then, the sound of the ocean hitting the sand and rocks would obscure our voices."

Blair nodded, his head bowed. "I'm really sorry about last night, Jim. I - well, my body appreciated what you were doing a little too much, I guess."

"Don't worry about it, Sandburg," Jim reassured, and then teased, "It was a tribute, of sorts, to my skills."

Blair snorted, blushing all over again. "Oh, man. I didn't plan on that, you know? I just wouldn't ever want you to be uncomfortable or misunderstand.... "

Watching him, Ellison frowned, well aware that Blair was still worried about what his journal had revealed. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he looked around and spotted two conveniently-sized boulders, and he decided it was time to talk about something he'd thought he'd never reveal. "Come over here," he directed soberly, lightly touching Blair's arm until Sandburg grasped his, allowing himself to be led. "There're a couple of rocks we can sit on."

Once they were comfortable, he sighed as he looked at Blair, reading the anxiety in his tense muscles and shadowed eyes. "We need to talk about that journal entry," he said, not beating around the bush. "You're way too upset about it."

"I'm upset?" Blair snorted. "What about you, Jim? You're the object of unwanted desires. You can't tell me you're comfortable with it."

"I'm not as uncomfortable as you seem to think I should be," Ellison replied, his brow furrowed. Taking a breath, he continued awkwardly, "Chief, what happened between us at that fountain was the most profound thing that I've ever experienced. It was powerful beyond understanding and very, very scary, but it got me what I wanted - I got you back. To be completely honest with you, I did feel something of what your journal indicates that you felt. But I did my usual thing - repressed it as hard and fast as I could - because I was afraid, and I thought it was wrong." Pausing, uncomfortable, Jim shifted his gaze from Sandburg's astonished expression to look out over the waves. "I wonder, sometimes, if it was all part of my crazy reaction to Barnes," he admitted then, very quietly. "I was in a constant state of arousal and I acted it out with her - in part, probably as you suggested at the time, because of the draw of another Sentinel, but not completely. It's one of the reasons I was so shaken about it - it was so utterly revolting to be doing that with the monster that had _killed_ you. And then I kept leaving you behind because, well, I was scared. Scared of how I felt about you after... after the merging in the jungle; and scared that you'd be hurt, that _I'd_ hurt you, because of a vision I'd had."

"What vision?" Sandburg asked, leaning forward, unconsciously squinting in concentration.

Sighing, Jim kneaded the back of his neck as he replied, "I had this dream, and then the same vision again later. The first time was before I even knew there was another Sentinel around. Anyway, I was in the jungle, in my camouflage and I was carrying a crossbow. I heard the howl of a wolf and tracked it, shooting it with my weapon. When I approached it, the wolf whimpered and then died... and then it morphed into you. You were naked and you were dead. Scared the shit out of me. Later, I saw the face of the same wolf superimposed on your face when you were lying on the grass by the fountain - and when I saw the wolf racing toward the jaguar, I finally realized the wolf I had 'killed' must be your spirit guide. Weird, huh?"

"You've never told me any of this, have you?" Blair asked softly, stunned by the candor and deeply appreciating it.

"No, I never have," Jim admitted. "It - the, uh, attraction to you - got easier after a while. I encouraged you to work more at the university and I started partnering more with Joel, ostensibly to give you time to finish your dissertation. You never gave me the slightest clue that you were experiencing some of the same feelings, Chief. I... I thought I was going crazy, to tell you the truth."

"So that's why what I wrote doesn't bother you?" Sandburg queried, fascinated.

"I guess," Jim replied. He bit his lip as he studied his partner. "I don't understand any of it, Blair. We're both heterosexual, and I'm convinced that a... a physical relationship between us would only create problems. I've made a conscious point not to see you as anything but my very good friend since we got back from Mexico - just the way I saw you before that all happened. But here, with the way the other men are looking at you all the time, not to mention kissing you, well - I'm seeing you differently again; feeling differently about you. I'm sorry. I know that's nothing you want, not now, anyway." He paused and then continued slowly, "But I can understand what you wrote in the journal, and it must have been hard on you to hide what you felt - damned hard."

Blair sat quietly, his expression sober, as he thought about what Jim had just told him, and he unconsciously chewed on his lip as he puzzled it all out. Blowing out a breath, he said, "It has to be something to do with the Sentinel/Guide bond. It's the only thing that makes sense. The spiritual merging triggered something deep inside both of us." He frowned as he lifted his face toward Jim. "I think... I think that you may feel a need to imprint me beyond anything we've ever done before. And I may have been feeling a need to be completely with you, as close as we could get - to please you, maybe, because I'm kinda compelled to meet your needs, to be honest. I think it's sort of a Guide instinct. But, maybe, I also need and want that affirmation from you, or I did after the fountain. Maybe we're feeling drawn to merge physically the way we merged spiritually, or as close a facsimile thereof that two human beings can manage."

"I don't know, Chief," Ellison replied tightly, uncomfortable with the whole conversation. "Sounds like a good way to screw up a friendship, if you ask me."

"Maybe," Sandburg allowed straight-faced, considering the pun Freudian and unintentional on Jim's part. Frowning, pondering the information, speaking quietly, as much to himself as to Jim as he reasoned it out, he went on. "That vision, about shooting the wolf? Maybe it has a few clues. Visions aren't usually exactly what they seem on the surface - there's usually a different, entirely symbolic, meaning. You thought you'd killed me, but what if that's not what it was about? Whether you were conscious of it or not, you sensed another Sentinel nearby. And from what I understand from the journal notes you read to me, you could probably smell me on her. What if... what if you were tracking _your_ Guide to assert your rights and make it crystal clear to her that I _belonged_ to you? The arrow could be a phallic symbol - _you_ shot it and it _penetrated_ the wolf - evidently penetrating _me_ as well. You said I was naked in your dream and seemed dead? Well, sexual orgasm is referred to in a lot of cultures as 'the little death'. Jim, it could be your dream wasn't about _killing_ me, but about _staking your claim_ and _bonding_ physically with me. It could also explain why I felt such a powerful attraction to you after the spirit merger when you brought me back from the dead. Maybe I felt the same need to bond with you. It might be instinctive."

"But you don't feel that need now, do you?" Jim asked somberly.

Blair swallowed and lowered his head. Sighing, he shook it as he replied, "No, I love you, but not that way. Except, well, my body doesn't seem to know that." Lifting his face toward the sea, he said with steady strength, "But I don't find same-sex relationships inherently offensive, Jim. I think all love is beautiful and... sacred. So, uh, if this is something you need from me, I don't have any problem with the idea of physically manifesting my love for you."

Jim's cheeks ballooned as he blew a long, slow breath and then he pursed his lips thoughtfully. Squinting up at the sky, he shrugged helplessly and shook his head. "I don't know, Chief," he finally sighed. "I just don't know. I've never really thought about it until we got this assignment. I'm afraid it might be a big mistake."

"I wonder if we ultimately have any choice?" Sandburg mused. "I don't mean that we're mindless creatures driven by some atavistic primal urge, not exactly. But maybe it's a natural outgrowth of what we are to one another. You have a powerfully protective streak, especially when it comes to me. And I really need to be there for you, no matter what. I've known that for some time now. Maybe it's not sexual so much as, I don't know, essential to who and what we are to one another. An affirmation of sorts."

"Hell of an affirmation, Chief," Jim snorted. "Regardless, I'm not about to start something you aren't feeling the need for. If, when, your memory returns and if you still feel like you did when you wrote your journal, well, we may need to talk about this again. For now, I just want you to stop worrying about it all. There's nothing you could ever do to offend me or alienate me. You need to know that in case, well, in case I inspire a similar reaction tonight." Blushing, he looked away and muttered, "And I hope that works both ways, in case you get me 'inspired'."

Blair stood then, and took a step to stand in front of Jim. Reaching out tentatively, he found Ellison's face and tenderly caressed his friend's cheek. "We'll take it all one step at a time, Jim. But I kinda like the idea that I might 'inspire' you. I know for sure that I like doing this." And he leaned down, for the first time initiating a kiss that wasn't required by the roles they were supposed to be playing. The intimacy deepened, neither able to resist the waves of complex and confusing emotions and sensations that washed over them and threatened to drown them in desire before they finally, reluctantly, pulled apart and began their trek back to the lodge.

They were both silent on the walk back, each of them having to do a lot of serious thinking about where their partnership might ultimately be going.

 

 

That evening as they got ready for dinner, Jim found himself momentarily speechless when Blair emerged from the bathroom, the younger man having wanted to do his best to get himself ready to present the deliberately ambivalent 'half screw you', 'half screw me' message in his 'fuck me' ensemble. He'd showered and blown his hair dry so that it was a halo of soft curls around his face and down to his shoulders. The bit of shaving lotion he'd missed on the side of his nose filled Ellison with a nearly overwhelming surge of tenderness. God, Blair was so vulnerable, and he tried so damned hard to hide any fears or uncertainties that must haunt him virtually all of the time. But it was the sleeveless see-through shirt and tight jeans that took Ellison's breath away. They gave Blair a tough, rebellious and very sexy appearance that was totally at odds with his inherent gentleness and straightforward kindness. The black net mesh gave tantalizing views of skin, furred chest and the nipple ring in a constantly moving play of light and shadow; the jeans left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Even the cast, starkly white against the black clothing and the tawny tones of his lithely muscled upper arm, played to the tough/vulnerable imagery. Jim swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breathe again.

As the silence grew prolonged, Sandburg asked uncertainly, though he tried for a provocative tone given the role he was supposed to be playing, "So, what do you think? Do I look okay? Is something on backwards or inside out?"

"God, Chief," Ellison rasped, not yet really able to articulate anything more.

Frowning, Blair tilted his head. "Is it too much? Should I change?"

Moving across the floor, Jim gently brushed away the lingering shaving cream with his thumb. "You look absolutely ravishing," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to enjoy watching everyone's chin hit the floor and their eyes fall out when you walk in on _my_ arm tonight."

"Oh," Blair replied, his brows lifting as he grinned. "Hot, then?"

"Very hot," Jim concurred. "Very."

"Good," Sandburg smirked smugly, liking the admiration he heard in Ellison's voice. He was vain enough to enjoy the idea that he looked 'hot' and would knock everyone's eyes out, even if they were all men and he usually played to a female audience. Reaching out, he touched Jim's suit and closed his eyes to concentrate on the fabric and cut. "It's the dark blue one, right? With the light blue shirt and the tie with lightning jags of crimson?"

"Yep," Jim replied. "Too formal?"

"Too gorgeous - they won't even notice me," Blair teased, affecting a slight pout. His hand drifted up, seeking and finding Jim's earring. "I like it that you wear it," he said. "Makes a real statement with the suit; one you'd never make at home."

"Well, that's why we're here, Chief," Jim smiled. "So I can wear it without feeling self-conscious, right?"

"Riiiiight," Blair drawled, knowing they were both playing as much for the camera as they were for each other. He lifted his face, his lips parting invitingly as he murmured, "No matter what eventually happens between us, whether this relationship works or not, always remember I really do love you, Jim."

Jim's kiss and hard embrace left no room to doubt his feelings in return.

Sandburg blew out an unsteady breath when they parted. Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, you ready to go downstairs?"

"Absolutely."

Blair turned Jim toward the door and took a firm hold of his friend's arm, just above the elbow. "Lead on, and know that I'll follow you anywhere."

"Such trust," Jim murmured, half joking, half deeply moved because he knew Blair wasn't kidding.

"Absolute and unconditional," Sandburg replied with a steady smile. "Always."

 

* * *

 

Jim chuckled warmly at the reactions when they walked into the conservatory. Blair laughed softly beside him in acknowledgement that Jim had likely called it right - they were no doubt the center of everyone's attention. He leaned into Ellison's side and smiled radiantly as the older man led him to their table.

After dinner, they again adjourned to the ballroom to dance for a while. Only, that evening, Jim touched him more, and more possessively, frequently nuzzling his neck or claiming his lips while large, strong hands wandered to his butt to pull him closer. It was... very erotic... to be surrounded by a velvety blackness and soft romantic music, giving the illusion of being somewhere apart and alone with Jim while knowing they were being watched - and to feel so publicly desired in such an unexpected way - to be caressed and feel cherished in the way that Jim was touching him and kissing him.

Blair felt dizzy with the heady and passionate response of his body and he tried to sort out his feelings. He loved Jim, but so far as he could remember, had never imagined anything like this would ever happen between them. But this was more than a game, no longer just an undercover assignment (though the 'undercover' thought made him grin a little at the irony of it all). Something was happening between them, something profound and, if they carried it through, it would change them, change fundamentally who and what they were to one another.

He couldn't get over the super-straight Ellison acting as if he was burning with a desire he could scarcely contain. It moved him deeply that Jim trusted him enough to have revealed his feelings - enough to be acting them out so convincingly that it couldn't all be an act. It was overwhelming to feel such passionate love from someone he loved more than life itself. At one point, as they were dancing and Jim was holding him so closely, so protectively and with such tenderness, Blair felt a lump fill his throat as tears burned in his eyes. He'd never been loved like this before and he thought he might drown in the emotions and sensations that blasted through his heart and soul. This big, reticent, tough man had a heart so gentle and a touch that was so tender and loving; and his partner was so damned vulnerable that it scared Blair to think of how easily Jim could be hurt. He tightened his grip around the older man, as if he, the short, blind guy, could protect the tall, strong cop with Sentinel senses - and he knew he'd rather die than ever have Jim come to harm.

Jim must have felt the small tremors that rippled through his body because he asked uncertainly, with evident concern, if something was wrong. Blair shook his head, not able to speak until he swallowed the lump of love in his throat. "No, nothing's wrong," he finally managed to say. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes before he lifted his face toward his partner. "I just think it's time we headed upstairs," he added huskily.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they were back in their room, Jim made the rounds of turning off all the lights and closing the drapes. He pulled down the covers on the bed before he turned back to Sandburg, who stood waiting for him by the closed door. He captured Blair's face in his hands and bent to kiss him passionately, no longer able to stop expressing the love and desire he'd been repressing and trying to deny for months. God, he was grateful to the fates for having thrown this assignment at them and creating a situation that brought the walls between them crashing into dust. The look in Sandburg's eyes when he'd suggested returning to their room, and the sound of his voice, had told Jim all he needed to know about the fact that Blair loved him and would give him anything he wanted, gladly.   
But Jim still wasn't willing to move anywhere that Blair didn't passionately want to go. So, he was respectful, gentle, as he divested Blair of his garments. Besides, if anything was going to happen between them, he really didn't want it to be when a video camera was recording every move and sound. One day, if they succeeded in bringing these criminals down, the tape would be played in court as evidence as to what had been used to try to blackmail them. Ellison took a deep breath, reaching for control. It would have to be real enough to convince those who watched, but not so real as to be painfully personal and dishonest when they were on the witness stand and claiming it to have all been faked, the light too uncertain to tell for sure. The cameras no doubt had exceptionally fine resolution and would record enough, despite the darkened room, to leave little to the imagination.

It was hard to remember all that when Blair was pushing his jacket off his shoulders, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Harder still when Sandburg undid his belt and knelt before him to pull his pants down and to steady him as he stepped out of them. Hardest of all when his partner lightly brushed over the erection tenting his boxers and smiled up at him with a luminosity that even in the darkness he could see clearly. He moaned low in the back of his throat as he drew Blair up against him and he was honestly startled when Sandburg kept coming, literally climbing his body to link those sturdy legs around his hips, grinding into him as they kissed deeply. He staggered a little under the wanton onslaught and then steadied before turning to carry Blair to the bed.

Once again, he pulled the covers partway up to partially cover them and then he turned his attention to pleasuring Blair as best he could, trying through the touch of his hands, lips and body to convey something of the depth of the passion and tenderness he felt for his partner. When he felt Sandburg's strong reactions, hard and fierce in response to his wordless ministrations, his heart nearly burst with joy.

But it was the whisper, so soft no recording device could ever capture it, which left him in danger of drowning in uncontrollable desire.

 

* * *

 

God, Jim was playing his body like some kind of musical instrument, like a troubadour of unsurpassed talent and mastery rendering an ancient melody of such sweetness there could be no words to do it justice. Delicate fingers ghosted over his skin, making him shiver in response; lips grazed and nipped, sucked and laved, tongue flicked - the slightly abrasive sensation hot and commanding. They kissed and nuzzled, and Blair felt passion burn through his body to his loins until he was breathless with need. Jim's love surrounded him, engulfed him, overwhelmed him with exquisite sensations that were so sharp they were almost painful. He couldn't hold back, didn't want to, and he responded with enthusiasm and an ardor that was equally hot and demanding. He pressed against Jim, his hips thrusting up against the hard, lean body and he moaned to feel Jim's erection digging into his flesh, wanting him, desiring him - needing him.

And somewhere in the midst of their lovemaking, the sensations spiraling through him permeated his being and illuminated his soul, breaking through the wall holding back his memories, and he gasped, breathless with the glory of having this miracle. He'd never dreamed Jim would ever love him like this and now he remembered how he'd ached with his need and the loneliness of hiding it. In that moment, the memory of his love as recorded in his journal once again became his reality - a reality in which Jim _loved_ him.

"I _remember_ ," he finally managed to gasp, Sentinel soft. "Oh, God, Jim. I remember _everything_ and I want you so _bad_."

Jim stilled and then, groaning softly, he shifted to pull Blair into a tight embrace as he buried his face in his lover's curls. He shuddered and couldn't stop the tears that suddenly filled his eyes from falling. When Blair felt their hot dampness, he twisted to draw Ellison's head down to his chest and he cradled the older man with infinite tenderness. "I love you, Jim, so very much," he whispered softly. "God, it's incredible to know you love me in the same way."

Ellison sniffed and took a deep breath, and Blair could feel his struggle for control. Sandburg tightened his grip, knowing as well as Jim did that this wasn't the time or the place, but tomorrow they'd be home and could do whatever they desired. Still, they needed to continue the charade that had suddenly become very real. Fumbling in the darkness, he first drew the sheet up to cover Jim's shoulders and most of his own body. And then he reached underneath to find Jim's hand and guide it to his erection, gasping at the feel of the strong fingers surrounding his engorged, inflamed cock. His lips against Jim's brow, he murmured, "Do whatever you want or need to do. Make me scream for the bastards watching us - I'll do the same for you when we get home."

Jim's hand stroked him in silence, his thumb tracing the heavy vein and then gliding up over the sensitive head, feeling the moisture leaking there and Blair's shudder of passion. And then he lifted his head to kiss Blair's mouth, whispering against his lips, "Are you sure? The tape will be evidence."

In response, Sandburg thrust into his hand and when their lips parted, he murmured no louder than a breath, "So they'll all think I deserve an Oscar, so what? It's what they expect to see. Please, Jim... I want this."

 

* * *

 

Jim felt a surge of elated relief to know Sandburg had his memories back - not simply because Blair remembered wanting this, but because so much that he'd lost was now restored to him. Ellison could only fervently wish that his partner's sight would also return quickly.

But the knowledge that Sandburg _did_ want his touch filled him with wonder. It was all so strange, and he didn't understand anything that was happening between them; Jim only knew that deep down, it felt _right_. When Blair guided his hand to his lover's erection, he was awed in so many different ways. That Sandburg was so open with him, so free of constraint, so generous. That this hard, strong erection, through which he could feel the pulse of Blair's heart, cried out with need and want for him - with desire and longing that _only_ he could satisfy. Blair _wanted him – badly_. Suddenly, without warning, it was decision time. If he acted now, with full knowledge of Blair's desire, if he gave way to his own, there could be no going back. He closed his eyes as he caressed Sandburg's throbbing penis and, once again, he felt the rightness deep in his gut for what was happening, however strange and unexpected it might be.

So, his decision made, it was with deliberate intent, and not simply the surging of desire that could no longer be denied, that he lifted his head to kiss Blair deeply, and to ask, one last time, if his partner was sure. For this would now be their first time for real, however much others would never know that, and others would view their lovemaking. When Blair gave his answer in terms that could not be misunderstood, Jim needed no more encouragement and he began to make honest, tender, and very passionate love to his partner.

He trailed kisses down along Sandburg's body until he disappeared under the sheet that covered them and then he took Blair into his mouth for the first time, reveling in the shout of pleasure and the way Sandburg thrust up to meet him. Sound and touch, taste and scent swamped him until he was only aware of Blair and how very much he loved the younger man. Jim ached to do all in his power to make this good, even great for Blair, to make it special, most especially because of his partner's courage in doing this now, in not waiting until it was safer, more discreet - because he loved Jim and just wasn't prepared to wait any longer, regardless of the risks of embarrassment in the future. It was a declaration in the most profound and intimate of ways of the love Blair felt for him - Sandburg was laying his soul bare, not only for Jim to see, but for the world to witness in some future courtroom.

Lifting his head, he growled huskily, "Hold on a minute. There's a tube on the bedside table. Let me get it."

Sorry that the prosaic words could not begin to capture his reasoning or the depth of his emotion, he sprawled across Blair's body to reach for the lubricant, so helpfully placed there by the housekeeping staff. He could feel and hear Sandburg panting beneath him as his partner's hands roamed his shoulders, back and arms as he hastily covered his fingers. Then he kissed Blair again, deeply and wantonly, before sliding back under the sheet and once more taking possession of his lover's penis, swallowing Sandburg deeply to cover him with tight, moist heat. Blair moaned again, his head thrust back and his back and hips arching up to Jim, his legs unconsciously spreading to give easy access to Jim's questing fingers. When Ellison pressed past the thick, hard ring of muscle, Blair writhed under him - and when he found his lover's prostate and stroked it, Sandburg nearly leapt off the bed as he shouted with wonder and exquisite passion.

Jim gave himself over to bringing Blair to a climax greater than any the younger man had ever experienced before, his mouth stroking up and down even as his fingers penetrated deeply, intimately, tenderly. When Blair came with a hard, hot rush, the last vestiges of Jim's old world shattered with the explosion of his own orgasm, and he groaned as he swallowed his lover's seed convulsively and with profound, uninhibited satisfaction. And then he emerged from under the sheet to take Blair into his arms and hold him as the last of the shudders trembled through their bodies.

When Blair could breathe again, he asked softly, concerned, "What about you?"

Jim smiled a little ruefully as he admitted, "Hearing you, seeing you, tasting you was enough to bring me off - I'm good."

"Oh, yeah, you're good alright," Sandburg snickered. "I'd even venture to say great."

"Yeah?" Ellison queried, his heart expanding with pride and tenderness.

"Oh, absolutely," Blair affirmed, drowsy with repletion, as he snuggled into Jim's arms and drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Ellison woke first the next morning, and he propped himself on one elbow to watch Sandburg sleep. God, Blair was so incredibly beautiful and he looked so young, so vulnerable, as he slept trustingly against Jim's body. Thinking back over the day and night just past, Jim shook his head, scarcely able to believe all that had happened. His chest tightened and his heart ached as he recalled the moment when Sandburg had said his memory had returned - and Jim desperately hoped that when the younger man woke, that his ability to see would also be restored. He wanted so much for Blair to be completely, unequivocally _happy_.

Finally, Blair sniffed and stirred, blinking heavily and then smiling as memory returned. He kissed Jim's throat and then lifted his face, his hand raking back his hair.

And Jim thought the pain he felt, when he saw those incredible eyes still unfocused with blindness, would rip his heart apart. He pulled Sandburg hard against him, holding him in an embrace of such wretched grief that Blair gasped, "What's wrong?"

"I'd hoped... " Jim choked. "When you remembered, I hoped... "

Blair sighed sadly and hugged him back, as hard as he could with his good right arm. "It's okay," he whispered. "Now we know, for sure, that it's only a matter of time, right?"

Jim closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek against Blair's curls. God, he hoped Sandburg was right. But he felt as if both losses should have been restored at the same time, and it scared him that Blair was still blind - scared him and hurt him deeply to think his partner might never recover and would suffer the loss of his sight for the rest of his life. But he didn't dare reveal his fear, and so he murmured, "Yeah. Just a matter of time."

They drew apart, Blair heading to the shower first. Mindful of the camera in the bathroom, they were wary of being caught together without the shelter of a sheet to hide all the details. Best to avoid temptation until they got home. Jim packed their gear, leaving Blair's clothing out on the bed so his new lover could dress while he showered and shaved.

They headed down to breakfast and then for another long walk on the beach, playing their planned scenario out to the end. When they went back to check out, Jim feigned confusion when Paco slid a package in a plain brown wrapper across the desk toward him.

"A memento of your stay with us, Mr. Ellison," Rodriguez drawled. "I'll be calling you soon to see if you enjoy it." His lascivious gaze sliding to Sandburg, he added provocatively, "I do hope to be seeing you again."

"Yeah, well, we'll see," Jim grated, his expression warning Rodriguez off. "We had a great time so, who knows, we might very well come back someday."

Blair caught the tone and the stiffening of Jim's body, and guessed the cause. He could feel good old Paco leering at him. He tucked his arm through Jim's possessively and leaned into his lover as he urged huskily, and very brazenly, "C'mon, Jim. I want to get you home and back into bed."

Jim gave Paco a superior smile and, draping his arm around Sandburg's shoulders, smoothly guided his lover out of the lodge.

Blair wasn't the only one who couldn't wait to get home.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he was back on 'home turf' where he didn't need to be able to see to know his way around, Sandburg took the lead, virtually dragging Jim into the apartment building and around the corner to the elevator. Blair hammered his palm on the door and then on the button, demanding, "Is it here? Is it coming?"

"No - " Jim managed to get out before his partner hauled him on to the stairwell, to pound up the two flights to the third floor hallway and along to their door.

"Open it, already," Blair urged, waving his hands as if that would compel Ellison to move faster. As soon as the door was open, Sandburg urgently shoved the older man inside and slammed the door, locking it behind them.

"Chief, we need to check out the video - " Jim began, only to be cut off again.

"No way, man. We know what's on it. We can check it out later," Sandburg objected as he peeled off his jacket and dumped it on the floor.

Jim hung up his own coat and then bent to retrieve Blair's. "We have to see if it shows enough to be compromising and used as evidence, given we kept the room pretty dark."

"Like I could tell?" Sandburg objected huffily. "And we don't have to submit it until tomorrow. Get a grip, Jim. It can wait!"

"Okay," Ellison laughed in delight at his partner's very clear sense of priorities.

"Upstairs is better; bigger bed," Blair directed, again in the lead as he pulled Jim toward the staircase, only to stop dead so suddenly that Ellison plowed into him. "Wait. Lubricant," Sandburg muttered, his sightless eyes casting helplessly around the loft, seeking inspiration he couldn't see. "Think!" he ordered himself in an aggrieved mutter. "Olive oil? No, too messy for Jim's bed. My bed - too small."

Jim was bemused by Blair's desperate confusion and urgency, like a starving man who knows a banquet is finally within reach, and the wanton desire that evidently even clouded his erudite lover's ability to think. He'd never seen Sandburg so - distracted - before. "How about the lotion you use to massage my back?" he ventured.

Blair's head snapped up and he murmured, "Aloe-based, hypoallergenic, gentle - yeah, that's great. Where is it?" He snapped his fingers as the memory kicked in and then pushed Jim in the right direction. "In the bathroom, under the sink. Go on, get it!"

Ellison chuckled as he ambled to the bathroom, but the laughter died when he returned to the hall. In the moments he'd been gone, Sandburg had kicked off his shoes and stripped off his pullover, pants and shorts, leaving his erection poking stridently against the tails of the shirt he'd already half-unbuttoned.

"What is taking you so damned long?" Blair complained with woeful impatience. "I know you're capable of moving almost at the speed of light when you have to. Hell, it's all I can do to keep up on my best day! Would you hurry up?"

"Chief," Jim protested, his voice suddenly hoarse and rough with his own passionate desire. "We've got all day - hell, we've got the rest of our lives! We can slow down and enjoy this."

"Next time we'll slow down," Blair shot back, his face flushed with need and want. "I've been holding this back for almost a _year!_ I want you, Jim, and I want you _right now_."

Ellison's mouth and throat went dry, and the breath was tight in his chest; his heart thumped painfully with the full-blown awareness of how very much Blair loved him and desired him. No one had been so desperate for his touch, for his loving, in all of his life. God, how had he ever come to deserve such a gift, so generously, eagerly given, so sure and determined? "Okay," he rasped. "Let's go."

Blair's face lit in a blinding smile of joy as he turned to the steps, reaching out to feel the wall, and then he was scampering up as fast as his painful erection would allow. By the time Jim had reached the top, he'd already pulled back the sheets, had ditched his shirt and had turned in all his naked glory to wait for his lover. When Jim got within arm's reach, Sandburg fumbled for the other man's belt buckle and began stripping him as he muttered, "Get your shirt off, would you? These clothes are in the way."

Jim steadied himself on Blair's shoulder as the younger man knelt to push his clothing off his legs. Blair sniffed and his face lifted to Jim's groin, a beatific smile of rejoicing on his lips and dancing in his eyes. As if in awe, he reached tentatively toward the burgeoning erection he had sensed and clasped Jim's length with an expression of wonder. "You really do want me," he whispered, his voice catching, and then tears glimmered in his eyes as he lifted his face toward Jim's, "as much as I want you... ."

Moved to the depths of his soul, Jim took Blair gently by the arms and lifted him to his feet, to hold him close. "I thought I made that pretty clear last night, Chief," he rumbled. Blair was trembling in his arms, the younger man's hands and lips roaming his body hungrily, yet with infinite tenderness. Then, once again tugging on Jim's arm, he backed up to the bed and, when he felt it behind him, he scrambled backward into it.

Holding out his right hand, he asked, "Would you put some lotion into my palm?"

Complying, Jim also attended to his own hand, not entirely sure yet exactly what Blair had in mind. And then he crawled into the bed, his movements sinuous, almost predatory, to hover over Sandburg and capture his mouth for a deep, demanding kiss. But he broke away with a muffled shout, startled, when Blair immediately grasped his throbbing erection and generously lathered it with lotion.

"Next time, we'll do this slow and make it _reeeaal_ good for you, I promise," Sandburg babbled. "But, Jim, God, please, I need to feel you inside. I _need_ to be joined with you."

Jim stilled as he looked down at Blair and he was suddenly afraid. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked unsteadily.

"No, no, that doesn't matter," Sandburg muttered as he lifted his face toward Jim, and took his lover's breath away with the absolute trust that shone in his eyes. "You won't hurt me."

"I'm going to make damned sure of that," Jim growled, overwhelmed by the vulnerability that was being offered to him to cherish. "So, hold your horses, Chief. We are not going to rush into this before you're ready."

"Fine, fine," Blair concurred, lying back and spreading his legs to give Jim access. "You want me on my back or should I turn over?"

"I want to see your face so I know I'm not hurting you," Ellison replied firmly, but, oh, so tenderly. "Now, just relax, would you, and let me do this - let me love you."

Blair's breath caught and his lip trembled at Jim's words and tone. Overwhelmed, he nodded. "I wish I could see you," he whispered. "Let me touch you, okay? Swing around so I can stroke you."

Jim had to blink hard as he shifted in the bed and took Blair's hand to guide it to his erection, blowing a long breath to hold onto his control when those strong fingers curled around him and Sandburg's thumb grazed the so-sensitive tip with infinite gentleness. And then he bent to take Blair's penis into his mouth, pleased when Sandburg immediately gasped and bucked up. As he licked and sucked, and stroked with his left hand, his right was conducting its own exploration, finding the tight entrance to his lover's body and easing one finger inside.

Blair moaned beneath him, panting for breath, writhing and pushing back on his finger. "More," he pleaded.

Jim took his time, working up to three fingers while he pleasured Blair, taking no chances of going too fast. Blair was pressing down hard, his body arcing in small convulsions of ecstasy every time Ellison brushed his prostate.

"Please, Jim, I'm ready. Please... " he begged, pushing on Jim's hip to get him to shift into position.

They were both ready, more than ready, as Ellison moved between Blair's knees and lifted his lover's hips onto his thighs. Swallowing, he gripped Blair's hip with one hand and guided himself forward, slowly pressing into Sandburg's body. Blair gasped and stilled, his eyes wide, and then he smiled; swiftly, without warning, he lifted his legs to lock his ankles in the small of Jim's back and, his weight on his elbows, he launched himself forward, impaling himself in one fast, smooth move - and his back arced, his head thrown back as he gasped at the slick, pleasure/pain of being filled with Jim's strength and heat.

"Jesus, Blair!" Ellison exclaimed, overwhelmed by the sudden sensations of heat and silken muscle clamped around him, sucking him deep. For a moment, the world shifted and he felt dizzy and was very afraid he was going to come then and there, far too fast to give Blair any kind of pleasure. So he tightened his jaw and swallowed hard, breathing fast and deep through his nose to hold on.

"Oh, man, you feel so good, sooo good," Sandburg was chanting in a husky murmur and then moaned in rapturous pleasure. "Move in me, Jim - I want to feel you wanting me. Needing me."

Slowly at first, with long, sure strokes, gripping Sandburg's hips with both hands, focused on the love glowing on Blair's face, Jim pleasured them both; but their need and urgency grew, and the tempo increased, faster, ever faster and harder as Ellison plunged in deeply, burying himself over and over in Blair's body.

"...wantmejimwantmeneedmeharderpleasejimplease... " Sandburg was gasping in a litany of passionate hope and love.

Heat filled their bellies and streaked up, flushing their bodies; desire and love, need and want, spiraling until there was only this - this moment in time, this being together, joined in a profoundly intimate union that swept all else away. Emotion and sweet sensation flooded through their bodies and filled their hearts, illuminating their souls with incandescent love until they were drowning in their mutual desire and fulfillment.

Knowing he was on the edge, wanting them to be wholly together, Jim gripped Blair's taut, hard penis and stroked hard as he thrust deeply in an atavistic, timeless rhythm.

Blair arced up to meet him, his voice a tremulous constant murmur. "jimjimjimoh... yeahyeahjimohgodyesthat'sit _YES_ oh _YES!_ "

Blair's hips surged up, semen spurting, as he cried out just as Jim thrust deep so that they were fully united when he exploded inside. The world blew apart in blinding white light that robbed them of all other awareness except for the heat that enveloped them like fire - hot, so hot. Ellison cried out and collapsed, barely having the presence of mind to not crash upon his lover, but to break his fall with his arms. He gathered Blair close and rolled so they were still joined, but entwined on their sides, Blair's cheek pressed to his chest. Sandburg filled his senses, the touch and smell of him, the sound of his breathing and heartbeat, the sight of him clasped so tightly in his arms. Dear God, he loved this man, this good, decent, funny, brilliant man - loved him so much that he'd give anything, all he had, all he was, to keep Blair safe and to make him happy.

They trembled in one another's embrace, completely undone by a passion such as they'd never known before, and it was long, long minutes before they were sensible of anything but one another.

Blair blew an unsteady, awed breath. "Did you see it?" he whispered. "The light - like when our spirit guides merged?"

"Yeah," Jim whispered as he nuzzled Blair's curls.

"I saw it, too, Jim," Sandburg murmured, his tone wondering and joyful. Then he tilted his face up, his eyes wide and sparkling with tears...

Jim looked into those incredible eyes - and understood.

"Oh, God!" he gasped as he shifted to clasp Sandburg's face between his hands and lost himself in those eyes. He blinked away tears that tried to blind him and block his vision of the miracle before him, uncaring when some trickled down his face. His lip trembled and his whole body shuddered with relief. _"You can see!"_ he whispered, awed and so incredibly, joyously grateful.

"I can see," Blair agreed, so happy he was glowing. Reaching up, he caressed Jim's cheek, tenderly wiping away the tracks of the tears. "I can see _you_ ," he murmured, his voice cracking.

Jim gazed at him in wordless wonder and jubilation for long seconds and then he bent to kiss Sandburg tenderly as he wrapped his arms and leg around his precious lover, and held him tight along the length of his body - holding Blair secure - holding him safe.

 

* * *

 

Hunger finally got them out of bed when Blair made a crack about having to keep up their strength, which Ellison rewarded with a light thump on the back of his head. Laughing, Sandburg headed to the shower with a ‘come hither’ look, and Jim found himself, once again, content to follow his Guide’s lead. They reveled in the right to touch freely as they washed one another and then dried off together. Figuring that the wearing of clothing would only be a temporary state for a limited time, they both opted to pull on comfortable sweatpants and that was all. Jim whipped up a couple of sandwiches, while Blair put on a can of vegetable soup to heat and took care of making the coffee.

After they’d eaten and cleaned up, Blair looked at the brown paper-wrapped package on the counter and suggested with an air of forbearance in the face of adversity, “I guess we’d better watch that before we adjourn for more fun and games, in case Paco calls to see if you enjoyed it.”

Nodding, Jim went to his jacket to pull out a pair of disposable plastic gloves and handled the package as carefully as he had when it had been slid across the counter to him, hoping to preserve Paco’s prints. He unwrapped it slowly, trying not to tear the paper unnecessarily, and then took the videotape to his player. Blair had grabbed a couple of beers and was already perched in his favorite spot on the sofa. Jim picked up the remote from the coffee table and switched on the television before turning to sit down.

“Maybe I should have made popcorn,” Sandburg mused, laughing softly at the pained look Ellison threw at him as he clicked on the VCR.

The film was approximately forty-five minutes long, and was comprised of snippets detailing their visit at the lodge. A camera behind the desk recorded their check-in, and there were shots of them walking close together in the garden and hand in hand along the beach, as well as from both nights of their dancing very close together and kissing in the ballroom. But most of the footage was devoted to their time in their room - arrival, the kissing and undressing of one another, Jim turning out the lights and generous excerpts of the time spent in their bed, particularly from the Saturday night.

Jim narrowed his eyes, very glad they’d taken the precaution of using the sheet for some slight measure of privacy. The camera had fine resolution and the picture was more than clear enough, especially when accompanied by the soundtrack. He licked his lips as he watched Blair lost in the throes of passion and cut a glance at his partner to see how the kid was taking it all. Sandburg was leaning forward, a rapt expression of concentration on his face. When the film finally ended shortly after Blair’s inarticulate yell of completion, Sandburg sat back, his lips compressed and his expression thoughtful.

“So, what do you think, Chief?” Jim asked, uncertain. This would not be an easy tape to watch being viewed by a courtroom full of people, let alone by their superior and colleagues downtown.

Clearing his throat, Sandburg replied with a calm belied by his racing heart, “They’ll give me an honorary Oscar at next year’s Cop of the Year Awards ceremony.”

“You think?” Ellison quipped, still not sure how Blair really felt about it, and wishing he himself had exercised some control, especially during that second night. Was the kid appalled, scared to have others see it - disgusted?

Shrugging, Sandburg turned to face him. “This is what we had to get on film to be believable - and, man, it’s believable, all right. Some are going to really wonder what was going on under that sheet; some will definitely not want to know. If we play it right, express astonishment and then laugh ourselves silly if or when anyone comments on how, uh, excited you seemed to get me, most will figure we were just doing our jobs and leave it at that.”

Jim nodded. That still didn’t tell him how Blair felt about it being a public piece of evidence. “You okay with this?”

“It’s a little late if I’m not, Jim,” Blair replied, his head bowed and his face partially hidden by his hair. But he straightened, raked the curls back behind his ears and looked at Ellison candidly as he replied fervently, “But you know what? Except for the security of your job and our formal partnership in MCU, I really don’t care if the _whole world_ sees what you do to me. I’m neither ashamed nor particularly embarrassed to be seen in the midst of an _incredible_ orgasm. Sex is normal and healthy and we hide it too damned much in our society, as if it were dirty instead of so amazingly beautiful. That tape shows you driving me absolutely wild, in _very_ difficult circumstances, by making tender, passionate love to me. The bottom line, Jim, is that I’m a very lucky man and I know it." Impishly, he grinned as he added, “But I still think they’ll give me an honorary Oscar; I mean, who’s ever going to believe _you_ could, or more particularly would, _literally blow me away like that?_ ”

Jim snorted and threw a pillow at him, but then stiffened, his whole body turning toward the door as he lifted a finger to his lips for silence. A moment later, there was a knock and, as Jim moved to answer it, he mouthed, " _Paco_ ," at his partner.

Blair sobered and rose to hurry to the kitchen where there were more things to be used as improvised weapons, if need be, than in the living room. Swiftly, he punched on the recording device of their answering machine with the hope of catching the conversation.

Jim nodded at him, and then hastily pointed to his eyes and made a negative, slicing motion. Confused understanding bloomed in the wide blue pools, but Blair let his gaze slip slightly out of focus just as Jim opened the door to let Rodriguez and his trusty muscle-man bartender, Jorge, into the loft.

“Ah, Paco,” Jim said flatly, deliberately ignoring the bruiser, his expression inscrutable. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”

“Then you’ve found time to watch my gift to you,” the crook drawled, his gaze raking first Jim’s bare chest and then Sandburg’s with obvious meaning. His lips pursed as he took time to enjoy the darkly furred torso of the younger man. “Truly stunning,” he murmured. Laconically, his gaze coming back to Jim, he added, “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” Ellison growled, crossing his arms and shifting to stand between Paco and his view of Sandburg.

“You’re a detective,” Rodriguez chided, smiling when Jim and Blair both convincingly feigned surprise at his knowledge. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out. I was a little, oh, concerned that perhaps you were only pretending to be guests at our lodge, but the tape is persuasive, is it not, of your reasons for being there? Too bad you cops keep secrets even from each other - I’m sure your colleagues in Vice have been watching us for some time and, had you known that, you might have been more wary of seeking seclusion there.”

Jim’s tongue played with a back molar as he narrowed his eyes and looked at the ceiling, as if trying to control his temper. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” he bluffed.

“No? I’m surprised,” Paco replied. “I would have thought you’d be reluctant to let copies of that tape get around - say to your Captain Banks, who could easily find it in his mail. Of course, that holds some risks for us as well, and I’d prefer to either do business directly with you or take precautionary measures to ensure you won’t ever present a risk to us."

When Jim just glared at him, Rodriguez gestured at his henchman, who revealed his snub-nosed automatic. Jim stiffened, and Blair was hard-pressed to pretend he didn’t know that the stakes had just gone way up. For _this_ performance, he thought, he _should_ get an Oscar.

“You’re going to shoot us?” Jim queried mildly, as if he couldn’t believe Paco could be so stupid, but more to give Blair a chance to gasp and react - and release some of the tension that Ellison could hear in the tripping heartbeat and shallow breathing.

“Only if I have to,” Rodriguez replied urbanely. “As I said, I’d rather do business with you. Much more profitable and so much less messy.”

Heaving a breath, Ellison asked, “How much?”

“Eighty thousand dollars,” Paco replied coldly. “By tomorrow night.”

“Eighty-thou... ” Blair exclaimed, gaping. “We don’t have - ”

“Oh, I’m sure this apartment, which is currently mortgage free, could be used to finance our transaction,” the blackmailer drawled. “Or, if you prefer, I could take you in trade.”

Sandburg backed up against the kitchen counter. “Jim?” he queried unsteadily, playing his role of the helpless blind lover to the hilt.

“It’s okay, Chief,” Ellison grated, the look in his eyes dangerous as he stared hard at Rodriguez. “You ever touch him, and I promise you that I will kill you - slowly. You got that?”

“So, it’ll be cash, then,” Paco sneered. “Fine. At 7:45 tomorrow night, in the stadium just before the Jags game. Loiter in the lobby with a briefcase in your hand. I’ll find you." He glanced again, meaningfully, at Sandburg and added, “I won’t ask for cash a second time.”

Jim swallowed and nodded, signifying his understanding of the threat. Rodriguez smiled, pleased it had all gone so well, as he and the bartender backed out of the apartment.

Ellison slammed the door behind them and locked it. He stood listening to ensure they had left and then casually leaned back against the wood as he turned to Sandburg, and crooked a brow.

Blair was grinning evilly as he rewound the tape in the recorder and played it back. Once they heard that the conversation had been clearly caught for posterity, he popped the tape and placed it beside the brown wrapping paper on the counter. “Gotcha, slimeball,” he gloated. “You are, like, so busted." Leaning back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, he asked, “Why did you want me to act like I was still blind?”

Jim shrugged. “Never hurts to have a surprise in your back pocket, Chief. For instance, he came here believing that you wouldn’t necessarily be able to identify him or his buddy, especially as Jorge didn’t say anything to give you a voice reference, but - ‘surprise’!”

Blair nodded, thinking it made sense. But there were other things he wanted to think about, and do, now that the police work was finished for the day. He gazed at Jim, a speculative look on his face, as if he was trying to figure out something really important.

“What?” Ellison asked, stiffening in unconscious resistance. That particular gleam in Sandburg’s eyes usually meant he was dreaming up more exotic and esoteric tests with which to torment his Sentinel.

Blair smiled innocently, another very bad sign, and said, “I was just wondering about how best to go about fulfilling the commitment I made last night.”

“Commitment?” Jim echoed.

“Yeah, I did promise to make you scream today,” Sandburg replied, and gave Jim a slightly predatory look that sent chills down the older man’s spine. “I’ve got some ideas on how to go about doing that. Care to try them out?”

“Nobody makes me scream, Chief,” Jim growled, using his best ‘I’m ex-Covert Ops and a very tough guy’ tone.

“No?” Blair simply smiled sweetly again. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Sure, why not? Loser makes dinner for a week?”

“You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Blair sent Jim upstairs and told him to just relax, maybe even take a nap, as he’d need his energy. Ellison gave his lover a narrow look, but did as he was bid. He stripped off his sweat pants before lying down on his back, his hands folded behind his head, the very picture of nonchalance.

But he was listening to everything Sandburg was doing downstairs, wondering what the kid was up to. Every once in a while, Blair chuckled to himself and would murmur, “You are so going to love this - and you are going to scream. Count on it.”

Jim snorted at the over-confidence, but as he heard cupboard doors open and close, and then the refrigerator, he couldn’t help wondering what Sandburg was up to. He began to imagine various possibilities - and before long, he’d worked himself into a state of hypersensitive arousal.

Which wouldn’t do at all.

So he tried to calm himself back down.

Without a lot of luck.

He heard Blair loading stuff on a tray and then moving into the living room to fiddle with the CDs. Moments later, pitched just loud enough for Sandburg to barely hear, the sound of drums began to beat through the loft. Primitive. Evoking the sweat of the jungle, the rich scents, the heat.

Jim’s mouth went dry.

And then he heard Blair on the steps, and had to swallow hard when Blair appeared, completely naked and, if his rampant cock was any indication, evidently very ready for some serious action. The afternoon light streamed through the skylight, bathing him in gold so that he seemed to be surrounded by an aura of fire.

Jim cleared his throat and twitched a bit. To distract himself, he focused on the tray Sandburg was carrying. He could smell spices and there was a distant hint of cold... ice?

Blair gave him a provocative look as he stepped forward and placed the loaded tray carefully on the bedside table. Ellison couldn’t help it - he was too curious not to lift up on one elbow to check out what was there.

A small bowl of ice.

A cashmere scarf heated in the microwave so that it was warm to the touch.

Small heaps of spices arranged on a saucer. He sniffed. Salt. Shavings of bitter chocolate. Cinnamon. Brown sugar.

Several lemon wedges.

An herbal-scented candle that added to the jungle atmosphere, the flickering flame evocative of a campfire.

Fresh aloe in a small bowl, squeezed from the plant in Blair’s bedroom.

A can of whipped cream.

Both of his pairs of handcuffs.

A feather.

“You didn’t say anything about using my senses against me,” Jim accused with a wounded look.

“You didn’t ask,” Blair replied with a sultry tone.

“Handcuffs?” Jim squeaked and then coughed. “Getting a cold,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Sandburg smirked. “You ready?”

Jim looked again at the handcuffs and his eyes narrowed.

“You trust me?” Blair asked then, no longer joking.

Jim looked up into Sandburg’s eyes, and then he nodded. “With my life.”

Blair smiled again and picked up the cuffs. Once Jim’s arms were stretched wide and handcuffed above his head, Sandburg picked up the scarf and wound it around Jim’s head, covering his eyes. It was soft and warm and comfortable - and it left him completely blind so that he had to rely on his other senses.

“I love you, Jim,” Blair murmured softly in his ear, his breath warm and tickling a little. “And you are going to remember this experience for the rest of your life - once you regain consciousness, that is.”

And then he chuckled, low and sexy, as he began to work Jim’s body as no one else ever could, with an intimate knowledge borne of years of study and observation, of care and commitment. He played Jim like a virtuoso violinist, his nimble touch delicate but sure, strong and confident - with not a single missed beat or wrong note.

He played until Jim’s body, his senses of taste, sound, smell and touch, were thrumming blissfully in the symphony of passionate love that he was orchestrating with infinite care.

When Jim wasn’t sure he could take much more - Blair stripped off the blindfold and added glorious sight to the mix.

And when he was done... having brought his lover to the borders of nirvana - and then beyond - Jim screamed.

Just before he passed out.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they walked jauntily into MCU, grinning like Cheshire cats. Everyone knew what their weekend assignment had been, so the smooching sounds Henri was making didn’t come as any surprise.

“So, did you boys have a good time?” Megan asked with exaggerated innocence.

“The best,” Sandburg replied smugly. “Who would have guessed Jim could dance?”

“So - did you get a souvenir tape?” Rafe couldn’t help but ask. “I’m assuming we’ll all have to see it; you know, to judge its value as evidence.”

“Oh, from what I saw, I think it’ll stand up in court,” Blair replied blithely - and then waited for his words to sink in.

The teasing laughter faltered as they all gaped at him, gazes sharp and penetrating as they flitted from Sandburg to Ellison’s easy grin, and then back again.

Megan’s lip trembled and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Henri whistled and murmured, “Hot damn!” Rafe’s smile could have lit the night as he moved forward to give Sandburg a hug.

Joel walked in to find Rhonda diving for a Kleenex, Megan obviously weeping, Henri unusually subdued - and Brian was usually far too reticent to go around hugging people. “What’s going on?” he asked, uncertain.

Blair turned to look him full in the eyes, as he said warmly, “Looking real good in that suit, Joel. Have you lost more weight since I last saw you?”

“Sweet Jesus,” Taggart gasped, his eyes filling with tears as he pulled Sandburg into a bear hug. “Oh, thank God.”

Simon came to his office door to see what all the excitement was about. He frowned a moment, but Ellison’s easy cheerfulness suggested that the tears - hell, even Henri was swiping at his eyes - weren’t because someone had died. It didn’t take him long to figure it out; he was the Captain of the Major Crimes Unit and he could detect a thing or two with the best of them. With long strides, he crossed the office and loomed over Sandburg. “Why am I the last to know?” he demanded with mock outrage. “I’m your boss - I’m supposed to be the first one you report to!”

When Blair looked up with an innocent expression and replied hastily, “Uh, gee, Simon, we were on our way to see you, but we got waylaid, I guess.”

“‘See’ being the operative word here, I presume,” Banks rumbled sternly. Cocking a brow, he asked, “What about your memory?”

“Both of them are back!” Blair exclaimed with a wide, delighted grin, too happy to hide it.

Banks’ face split in a broad smile as he nodded. Gripping the younger man’s shoulder, and then unable to resist hauling the kid into firm hug, he said huskily, “I’m glad, Blair - very, very glad." Then, as if worrying that his team might think he was going soft, he turned to Ellison and barked, “So, I presume you’ve got a tape to show me?”

“Yes, sir,” Jim drawled, holding up the clear bag with the videotape, the brown paper wrapping and the audiotape inside. “We’ve even got the blackmail threat recorded.”

Simon’s eyebrows arched and he looked suitably impressed. “C’mon into the office. I’ll call Ellersby and ask him to join us.”

 

* * *

 

Jim popped the tape cassette into the player, and then he and Sandburg sat back to watch the reactions of their superiors. Ellison crossed his arms, one hand covering his mouth, while Blair sprawled in his chair and did his best to look smug about the whole thing. Simon and Ellersby went from nodding encouragingly as they watched the more innocuous scenes, to sitting as rigidly as statues while the x-rated segments played. As if unaware of the brittle silence when the tape finished, Jim casually leaned forward to punch the rewind button, and then popped the audiotape into the machine on the table and hit ‘play’.

The senior officers were back to nodding approvingly as they listened to Paco Rodriguez dig his own grave.

When it finished, Jim waved the plastic bag that still contained the brown wrapping as he said, “Rodriguez’s prints should be on this - he handed the package to me personally.”

“Excellent work,” Ellersby said as he gathered up the evidence, his eyes averted from the two men across the table. “I’ll get to work getting the money together for the meet this evening." Pausing, he finally looked up at them. “It wasn’t the easiest assignment and, uh, I know you had reservations about it. But you handled yourselves well and put on an amazing performance that baited the trap perfectly. I appreciate it.”

With a nod to Simon, the Vice captain left to get the ball rolling on the warrant and the cash, as well as to organize his men for the sting that night.

Banks picked up a cigar to toy with as he leaned back in his chair. “That tape is pretty damned convincing,” he said neutrally, then pinned them each with a narrowed look. “Anything I should know about this partnership?”

Blair did his wide-eyed innocent routine as he shrugged his shoulders.

Jim drawled, “Just the usual Sentinel stuff, Simon.”

Banks winced and his lip curled in the predictable response. “Then I definitely don’t want to hear about it,” he growled. “Go on, get out of here." As they stood to leave, he called after them, “Ron was right. You did a damned fine job on this assignment.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jim replied deferentially, though he couldn’t help looking a bit smug. Well, Sandburg really had been very convincing on that tape - had, in fact, been the epitome of a man utterly lost in the throes of passion. “Always glad to do my duty.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Captain,” Blair echoed with an impish grin. “I’m just relieved that it did the trick, sir.”

When both men broke into gales of laughter at their pitiful witticisms, Banks rolled his eyes and shook his head. But once they were gone, he laughed, too, and he looked relaxed, even oddly relieved, as he turned his attention to the files in his in-basket.

 

* * *

 

The foyer of the Cascade Jaguars' home stadium was a madhouse of noise and the crush of humanity as thousands of people rushed inside to get soft drinks or beer and hotdogs before the game began at eight o’clock. Jim, holding the requisite briefcase, was the oddity, a man standing still and silent while others milled around him, hurrying past, laughing and calling to one another. He was frowning with the struggle of trying to use his senses in the midst of such utter confusion, as he strained to listen and watch for Rodriguez and his henchman, Jorge.

Sandburg was nearby, standing by a thick concrete pillar, frustrated by his inability to see past the taller men who crowded around the concession stands between him and Jim. “Filter out the smell and noise of the crowd,” he murmured under his breath, certain that his partner would be tuned into his voice. Every once in a while, he’d catch sight of the plainclothes detectives from Vice and MCU who seeded the crowd, watching and waiting to make the bust.

They were all on edge. A big crowd wasn’t the best place to be taking down men who might decide to shoot their way out.

The young desk clerk from the Half Moon Bay Inn appeared in front of Ellison, holding out his hand for the briefcase just as Sandburg felt the muzzle of a gun dig into his back. He stiffened as Paco whispered in his ear, “Too many cops here - it’s gotta be a setup. You’re coming with me.”

Blair barely managed to whisper, Sentinel soft, “Paco’s got me!” before an arm snaked around his throat in a tight headlock, making it hard to breathe.

The hoarse whisper sent shards of ice into Jim’s gut. He violently shoved the briefcase into the desk clerk’s hands and whirled toward Sandburg, in time to see Rodriguez start to drag his partner toward the service elevator held open a few feet away by Jorge.

 _“They’ve got Sandburg!”_ he bellowed, adding, _“Cascade Police!”_ as he drew his weapon and ruthlessly shoved his way through the crowd that separated him from his Guide.

All hell broke loose.

From their various vantage points around the foyer, cops shouted, _“Police! Get down!”_ as they drew their own weapons. Brown and Rafe tackled the kid with the briefcase, while other police officers moved with Jim to try to get to Sandburg. The people in the crowd, terrified by the sight of the guns, started to yell and thrash, stumbling and scrambling to get away, but the gunmen were all around them. Panic took hold and screaming erupted, becoming even more frenzied when Jorge shot a Vice cop who’d gotten too close, wounding the man.

Rodriguez shifted his weapon to dig into Sandburg’s temple, yelling, “Keep back or I’ll kill him!”

The police kept their weapons aimed, but held their positions, every man’s throat dry with the realization that Sandburg wasn’t likely to get out of this alive. When the Vice cop had been shot, the ante had been raised and the game had become deadly - these criminals wouldn’t hesitate to kill.

Jim was the only one who kept moving slowly but resolutely forward, his arms locked and his weapon trained on the point between Rodriguez’s eyes. _“Let him go,”_ the Sentinel growled.

But Paco kept dragging Blair - who was fighting the grip around his throat, struggling, trying to slow them down - backwards to the elevator. “I told you I would only ask for money once, Senor,” he sneered at Jim.

Ellison paused by the door to the stairwell. They had to be going to the parking garage in the basement, but where? Which level? Most probably someplace close to the exit, which meant the first level. He hated to abandon his partner, even if only briefly, but he had to take the chance to get ahead of them if he was going to stop them from taking Sandburg with them. His gaze shifted to Blair and locked with the wide, blue eyes, and then he shoved his shoulder against the door and plunged through it, racing down the steps with the hope of beating them to the parking garage.

Cursing, Paco hauled Blair into the elevator and Jorge slammed the ‘close doors’ button. Cops swore vociferously as Sandburg disappeared from their sight.

“Seal off all the exits!” Simon yelled as he headed toward the stairwell, Ellersby hard on his heels. Rafe finished cuffing the clerk, and Brown shoved the young man and the briefcase of money toward another cop to take him downtown and book him. Then they raced out of the stadium to aid in the roadblock outside.

 

* * *

 

When Jim lunged out of the stairwell, he spotted a burgundy van parked with the engine running near the service elevator. He sped across the dimly lit parking lot, and had just gotten in front of the van, a little to the side so he could see the others coming when the elevator doors opened. Leveling his weapon at the driver, he shouted, “Let Sandburg go!”

“No way,” Paco shouted back. “If you kill my brother, I will kill your partner. Drop your gun, Detective.”

Jim hesitated as he watched them shove Sandburg toward the side of the van, Jorge already wrenching the sliding door open.

“Don’t do it, Jim!” Blair cried out.

The pounding sound of racing feet echoed through the concrete garage and Rodriguez seemed to realize they were out of time. _“Kill Ellison,”_ he ordered Jorge with a cold whisper as he loosened his hold on the hostage he thought was blind and essentially helpless, to shove Blair into the van.

 _“Nooooo!”_ Sandburg screamed, erupting in frenzied panic even as Jim, having also heard the murmured order, was shifting to avoid the shot.

Rapid explosions of firing weapons erupted in the garage as Sandburg whirled away from Rodriguez and swung around hard, bringing his cast up to unerringly crash against the side of the taller man’s head with a sickening, hollow thump that sent Paco crumpling to the ground. Jorge cried out as the bullets fired by Simon and Ellersby caught him and slammed him into the van before he slid to the ground. The van lurched forward, Ernesto making his own bid for freedom as he gunned the engine and steered toward the exit ramp.

Scared, Blair looked toward his partner and sagged in relief to see Ellison still standing. But when Jim lifted his hand to his left side and swayed, Sandburg felt a frisson of fear and lunged forward, barely catching his partner in time to drop to one knee and ease Ellison’s descent to the ground.

 _“Jim!”_ he called out, close to panic as he supported his partner against his leg and chest with his casted arm, while he frantically rifled past Ellison’s jacket and under his already blood-sodden shirt to find the wound.

The older man seemed dazed as he tried to focus his vision on Blair. “You... okay?” he grated against the pain that flared hotly in his side.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Sandburg gabbled, sick to see how much blood was fast pulsing from the ugly hole in Jim’s body. He pressed his palm against the wound as hard as he could. Looking around wildly, he spotted Simon and shouted, _“I need an ambulance!”_ Turning back to Jim, he murmured as calmly as he could, given he felt nearly hysterical with fear, “You’re going to be fine. You hear me? Turn down the pain dial and just hold on, Jim. _Hold on!_ ”

They heard the staccato reports of more gunshots from outside, and the sharp, screeching crash of metal plowing into an immovable object - no doubt the getaway van smashing into the concrete retaining wall along the long drive.

Ellison curled against him, moaning softly against the pain as he clutched Sandburg’s jacket in a tight fist. “Chief?” he choked barely audibly, as he fought the darkness that was fast closing in on him. “I l-lo... ” he stammered weakly, but he sagged bonelessly against Blair’s body before he could finish the last words he’d desperately wanted to say.

“ _Jim!_ ” Sandburg cried, terrified. “Damn it, don’t you quit on me, man!” Gathering Ellison close, he lifted his head to Simon as he yelled, “ _Somebody help me here!_ ”

Banks skidded to a halt beside him. “How bad?” he grated as he gripped Jim’s shoulder.

Blair looked up with tears glistening in his eyes as he helplessly shook his head. And then he lowered his cheek to Jim’s bowed head and just clutched his partner to his chest, as closely and tightly as he could.

 

* * *

 

Sandburg stood with his right hand shoved into his jean pocket, his shoulders hunched against the distant ache radiating from his newly reset arm, now in a fresh cast supported by a sling. He stared disconsolately out the window at the rainswept darkness, not really seeing the bright city lights that gleamed through the night. Nor was he aware of the others from MCU sitting or pacing behind him in the small waiting room outside the Operating Rooms of Cascade General. All he could think of was Jim lying so still in his arms - all he could feel was fear.

It had been more than four hours since Simon had pulled him away from Ellison’s body so that the EMTs could get to his partner and do what they could to save his life. Jim was already deeply unconscious by then, his face starkly white from blood loss. He’d looked dead, lying there so impossibly still on the filthy gray concrete of the garage floor. Dead - except for the blood bubbling on his lips with each ragged, rasping breath.

Blair had scrambled into the back of the ambulance after they’d loaded Jim inside, willing to fight anyone who tried to stop him, dimly grateful when no one interfered. He clutched Ellison’s hand tightly as the technician pumped oxygen into the mask covering his partner’s face. Thunder cracked outside and then rumbled heavily as rain thrashed the outside of the vehicle and the ambulance skidded slightly on the suddenly slick road, but Sandburg was oblivious to everything but the sound of Jim’s labored breathing. When Jim’s efforts to breathe had faltered and then stopped altogether as he arrested just before they arrived outside the Emergency entrance, Blair had felt as if his whole world was crashing down around them, and he was certain in that moment that he was dying, too.

There’d been a frenzy of activity as people crowded around the gurney being rushed inside. Somehow, Simon was there and once again had pulled Blair back and away, holding him tightly when he’d fought, desperate to stay close to Ellison. Banks had shouted at him to calm down, that he wasn’t doing Jim any good by losing it - and he’d stopped fighting. Instead, he’d become eerily still, his wide eyes staring after the disappearing gurney, forgotten tears drying on his pale cheeks.

He hadn’t spoken since, except once to sharply warn the doctor about Jim’s sensitivities to medication, and his prolonged silence was scaring the hell out of the other guys and Megan, not that he noticed.

After an endless half hour, the Emergency doctor had come to tell them that they’d gotten Jim’s heart started again. Apparently, the bullet had pierced his left lung, and it had collapsed. The right lung had then shifted, crushing against his heart, which is why it had stopped. They’d done an emergency insertion of a chest tube to reinflate the left lung and had shocked his heart back into action. Jim had already been taken to the operating room. It would be hours, the man had said, before there would be any news.

Blair had listened intently, his face as white as Jim’s had been the last time Simon had seen the detective. The young man had swallowed hard, nodded sharply once, told the physician about Ellison’s sensitivities, and turned to the bank of elevators to go upstairs to the waiting room to...wait. By then, Henri and Rafe had also arrived and the three other men followed him silently, crowding into the elevator with him.

It was an hour before Simon noticed the state of Sandburg’s cracked cast and physically hauled him back down to Emergency. Numb, Blair didn’t fight him. Dully, he knew it would be hours yet before there would be news about Jim. In the meantime, nothing else mattered to him. He went through the x-rays and the work on his arm as if in a dream, not really fully aware of what was happening around, or to, him. He could still smell Jim’s blood on his clothing; still feel the imprint of his dying lover in his arms. Who the hell cared what they did to him or if his arm hurt? None of that was important.

When they’d finished with him, he silently went back upstairs, Simon beside him, watching him carefully.

And now they were all there, someone having called Joel and Megan. He could have seen them in the reflection of the window if he’d looked, caught them casting worried looks his way. But he didn’t notice, nor would he care if he had.

Time crawled by as they all waited, desperately wanting to know how things were going behind the closed double doors, scared they were going to get bad news.

Five hours after Jim had been shot, the surgeon finally emerged from behind those doors, still in his faded and wrinkled green scrubs, his mask dangling loosely around his neck. Blair turned from the window and stared at the doctor, trying to read his expression.

The physician stopped and searched the faces of the gathered assembly of cops. “Mr. Sandburg?” he asked, having found that name on the chart as ‘next of kin’. The others parted to let Blair, by far the shortest person in the room, step forward.

“Is he... ?” Sandburg began, his voice hoarse, catching before he could finish the question, dreading the answer, hoping, _desperately_ hoping Jim was okay, would be okay.

“Mr. Ellison is in Recovery,” the surgeon began and Blair felt dizzy with the relief of knowing Jim was still alive. “It was touch and go for a bit, but he’s strong, in good shape. He’ll be under the weather for a while, but he should recover just fine.”

Sandburg started to tremble and his lip quivered as his eyes blurred with tears. “Thank you,” he managed to choke out. “When... When can I see him?”

“It’ll be another hour yet before he’s settled in ICU - you can stay in the waiting room there for a nurse to come for you,” the surgeon told him gently, watching him closely as if expecting him to collapse any second.

Blair swallowed hard, and tried to blink away the moisture burning in his eyes, completely unaware of Simon’s hand gripping his shoulder. “Th-Thank you,” he stammered again with heartfelt sincerity. The surgeon nodded, cast an assessing look at the others to reassure himself that they’d be able to care for the young man, who was fairly obviously suffering from shock, and then disappeared back behind the door.

“He’s going to be okay, kid,” Banks murmured to him reassuringly. “You can relax now.”

Sandburg nodded jerkily, and then simply sank to the floor, his head bowed and his hand covering his eyes as he wept, drowning in reaction and relief. Banks went down to one knee beside him and gathered him close, stroking his back and mumbling reassurances, while the others hugged and held onto one another in their own relief and joy at the very good news.

 

* * *

 

Jim appeared to be sleeping when they finally let Sandburg in to see him. He still looked too pale against the white of the linen and the thick bandage swathing his lower chest, too silent amongst the hum and beep of the equipment that surrounded him, monitoring his heartbeat and blood pressure. One bloody tube linked his chest to a bag hanging under the bed. Another fed clear liquid into the back of his left hand and still others kept him clean of any waste expelled by his body.

Blair wrapped his fingers around Jim’s wrist and then shifted his hand to interlace their fingers. Ellison’s skin felt warm to his touch and the familiar heat reassured him. For a long moment, he simply gazed at his beloved, the lump in his throat too thick to speak past. But he finally mastered his emotions enough to murmur brokenly, more to reassure himself than with any real belief that his partner could hear him, “You’re going to be okay, Jim. God, you scared me, you know? But you’re going to be just fine."

He sniffed and swallowed hard, willing his voice to be steadier as he continued, “I’ll be close by if you need me. They won’t let me stay with you for more than a few minutes. But, uh, I’ll be just outside in the waiting room. Joel’s gone to get me some clean clothes and the staff said I could shower here. I’m sorry, I know I must stink with blood and the sweat of being so afraid, and I don’t want the stench to add to your discomfort when you wake up." He took a deep breath, blinking to fight the tears that once again threatened. “I love you, Jim. I love you so much,” he whispered and then leaned down to kiss Ellison’s brow.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of that night and most of the next day, Ellison barely woke, and seemed disoriented in the brief periods when he was somewhat lucid. But Sandburg could tell that Jim knew he was there in those moments, because his partner’s face would turn toward his voice, a slight smile on his lips despite the frown of pain, and Ellison’s fingers tightened around his own. Jim’s vital signs remained strong so Sandburg knew his lover was healing, and that kept him from falling apart at how weak and vulnerable his partner still was. Finally, more than twenty-eight hours after he’d been shot, Jim stirred and blinked, and then fully awakened.

“Hey,” Sandburg called quietly. “How’re you doing?”

Jim cleared his throat and Blair immediately brought a straw to his lips. The cool water soothed the rough dryness and he sighed in relief. “Fine,” he managed to rasp, but he winced against the glare of the bright lights.

“Yeah, right,” Sandburg chided gently. “Check your dials, Jim.”

Nodding weakly, Ellison closed his eyes to concentrate as Blair talked him through the process with low, steady reassurance, and gradually the lines of strain around his eyes and mouth smoothed out.

“You remember what happened?” Blair asked then as he stroked Jim’s brow.

“Shot,” Ellison muttered, liking the feeling of the warm hand soothing him.

“Yeah, and you’re in Cascade General-ICU. But you should be moved to a regular room tomorrow,” Sandburg told him, his low, modulated voice a restful flow of comforting sounds.

Jim smiled peacefully and then opened his eyes to study his partner. There were dark shadows under Sandburg’s eyes and he appeared to be very nearly exhausted. “You look like hell,” he grated fondly. “Go home and get some sleep. I’m okay now.”

“You sure?” Blair asked, uncertain, not wanting to leave.

“Yeah - want you to keep your strength up... to take care of me,” Jim rumbled, and then winked.

Surprised into a snicker, Blair leaned forward to brush Jim’s lips with his own, not caring if any of the nursing staff might notice. “I love you,” he whispered against Ellison’s mouth.

“I know,” Jim murmured back, his tight grip on Sandburg’s hand and his eyes saying everything his tongue couldn’t seem to manage.

 

* * *

 

Four days later, when Banks dropped in for his regular visit, he found Jim sitting up against the raised head of the bed, and Sandburg perched on the mattress beside him, as the two men played cards on the overbed table.

“Well, you’re looking a whole lot better,” he noted with evident satisfaction. “How’re you feeling?”

Jim looked up from his cards and grinned. “Not too bad,” he replied. “But Junior here is beating me badly. I think he cheats.”

Blair smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Cheats?” he protested. “I’m just a whole lot better card player, and you know it.”

“Lucky, is what you are,” Ellison shot back.

“Yeah, I am,” Sandburg drawled, with a meaningful look into his lover’s eyes.

Jim cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Banks, who was chuckling at their antics. Blair shook his head and also looked up at their boss. “He’s already started grousing at the nurses and complaining about the food, so he’s pretty much back to normal,” he informed Simon with a grin. “The doctor said this morning that I’ll likely be able to take him home in a couple days. To tell you the truth, I can’t wait to get Jim back in his own bed and be able to take proper care of him.”

Banks dropped his gaze away from Ellison’s sudden bright blush, pretending not to have seen it. But he had, and he thought again about the tape of Jim and Blair up at the inn, and about how Sandburg had been so utterly shocked and lost in a fog of fear until they’d been told Jim would be all right. And he remembered how Blair had collapsed with relief at the news - however much the kid enthused about the importance of letting emotion out, he wasn’t someone Simon had ever seen cry before, no matter what disaster had befallen them. Swallowing, he was now certain that, though he’d not believed they’d been anything but good friends before they’d gone on that assignment, something had happened that weekend to push them over the edge.

 _Sentinel stuff_ , Jim had called it when Simon had come as close to asking as he ever would, that morning in his office after seeing the tape.

Looking up as he replied warmly to Sandburg’s comment, “That is good news,” he studied the two men. Blair was positioned between Ellison and the door, as he had been every time Banks had seen them together since Jim was shot, and he finally realized that he was seeing the Guide standing watch over, and protecting, his Sentinel. Jim was relaxed and seemed as happy as Simon could ever remember in all the years he’d known the man, despite the pain Ellison had to be feeling regardless of how low he turned those weird dials in his head. And Sandburg, well, the kid was practically incandescent with joy.

If they figured no one could see what they meant to one another, then they were sorely mistaken. Surrounded by coworkers who were crack detectives, whom did they think they were kidding by trying to pretend there was nothing going on between them? But Banks smiled a little to himself, appreciating that they were probably just trying to protect him from having to do anything official about a relationship that he couldn’t formally condone between partners. But these weren’t your average partners; more, they were his best friends and he was genuinely glad to see them both so happy.

Scratching his cheek, he shook his head. “You know, Jim,” he suggested with exaggerated innocence, “you might want to be nicer to the staff so they’ll keep you around a little longer - you know, to be sure you’ve got your, ah, strength up before Sandburg gets you into that bed at home.”

His two friends gaped at him, evidently shocked to their toes by his words and tone, and then both started babbling about how Sandburg would be careful and knew _something_ about taking care of a wounded man, and how the sheets in the hospital just irritated Jim’s skin something fierce and the smells drove him nuts - trying to cover it all up - and he couldn’t help collapsing into booming laughter, tickled to have yanked their chain so soundly. “Whatever,” he waved them off, with great good humor. “Jim, I’ll be glad to see you on your feet again. Blair, you’ll have to come downtown to finish off the reports on the Rodriguez bust, but there’s no hurry. You just take real _good care of your partner_ , you hear?”

And then he blithely turned on his heel and walked out, still snickering to himself.

 

* * *

 

Once he was gone, Blair turned wide eyes to Jim. “Did he say what I think he said?” he exclaimed softly.

Jim’s gave him a sardonic look as he replied dryly, “I think Simon just gave us his blessing, Chief.”

“Oh, man,” Blair snickered, “that is so cool!”

“Yeah, it is,” Ellison agreed, very glad they had such a good friend. Teasingly, he added, “But, ah, maybe he was right. Maybe I should make sure I’ve got my strength up to par before I go home.”

“So long as _something_ is up to par,” Blair replied with sultry huskiness, “you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jim grinned as he gazed at Sandburg fondly. “Well, just don’t make me scream, okay?”

Blair laughed. “Tell you what,” he offered, his eyes twinkling, “how about I just vow to not drive you into another state of absolutely senseless unconsciousness until you’re fully healed?”

“Promises, promises,” Ellison drawled as he caught Sandburg’s shirt and pulled him closer.

Blair leaned in and kissed Jim deeply, giving him a taste of the passion that would once again swamp them when they were home and safe, and once more joyfully drowning in love’s divine embrace.

 

 

FINIS


End file.
